The girl who followed the king
by Cuchulain-Setanta
Summary: Few know that Middle-Earth is on the brink of war, those who do are gathering in secret to discuss the fate of the world. A girl who knows nothing, except what has been told to her, will join the Fellowship. Some things will be changed whether for good or ill remains to be seen...
1. So begins the journey

**Welcome to my "little" story based upon the Lord of the Rings movies. I hope that you enjoy reading and will hopefully leave a comment as that encourages me to keep writing and lets me know what the reader thinks. Thank you and enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though) **

1.

It is cold, so very cold. My hands clutch at the thin blanket, trying to pull it closer in a vain effort to gain more warmth, I lay shivering on the cold stone floor of my room, too cold to sleep and wondering if it is morning yet. I give up on sleep and sit hunched against the wall, my arms wrapped around my dangerously thin body, my hands feeling the large empty space under my shoulder blades. I slowly shrug on the pile of rags which is my only clothing, hoping to gain some warmth from that and the thin blanket around my shoulders. There is a noise outside the door, a shuffling grinding noise. I scurry away from the wall and as far into the center of the room as the chain around my ankle will allow me, waiting on my knees as a key turns in the lock and the door slowly opens to reveal Him. My body shakes violently, and not entirely from the cold. Hastily I lower my head and hope that my long scraggly and matted black curls hide my face enough from his gaze—He hates it when he can see my face when He doesn't want to. I keep completely still as He approaches and removes the chain from the cuff on my ankle, though the cuff remains. There is no feeling in His voice when He speaks, no emotion whatsoever…that is how badly I upset Him last night.

"Come. I am leaving and _you _will accompany me on my journey. Get packing if you do not want another punishment." He turns on his heel and leaves through the door of the room which He keeps me in.

I wait until He has left before I hurry to do as He ordered. Within an hour all that He would need for travel is packed and loaded on the horse. Cautiously I approach His chair, kneeling before Him with my head bowed and awaiting further instruction. My actions tell Him that what He asked has been completed.

My head is turns harshly to the side, my cheek stinging from the impact of His hand. I don't dare lift my hand, or even move, as I feel His eyes boring into me. I bite my tongue as His hand grabs my hair, yanking my head back, and my face up so He can see it. Instantly, my eyes become vacant, as I stare at a spot over His shoulder, staying still as He looks at my face and grips my hair tighter, lifting and pulling me higher up on my knees. Without warning His hand flies towards my face. He lets go of my hair as His hand strikes me harder than before and sends me flying a few feet away from Him to land in a heap on the floor. He stands and strides over to me. I lay as still as I can, His foot pressing onto my neck. He leans his weight onto his foot, causing me to choke and Him to press harder. I am so preoccupied with trying to breathe that I don't notice His hand grasping both my wrists in one hand above my head and tying a rope tightly around them, binding them in front of me with the other end in His hand. His foot leaves my neck, allowing me to breathe, which comes out as more of a gasp as He yanks me to my feet by the rope around my wrists. He walks so swiftly out the door that He is practically dragging me. He locks the door and ties the end of the rope to the back of His saddle, turns to glare at me with a mixture of contempt and a look of longing that frightens me. He gets into his saddle and spurs the horse forward. I stumble slightly and move my feet to keep up as the horse moves. I look back once at His house before looking down at my bare feet and wonder where He is going.

At some point during the day He stops to rest the horse and unties the rope from the saddle, allowing me to move around. I glance quickly at the surrounding scenery, staring at the trees and hills with wonder. I have never seen such things before, as I have only lived in a desolate place with hardly any trees that are alive.

"Thing! Get me some water now, or do you _want_ another beating." His words are harsh and cold. They, along with the sharp yank on the rope, jerk me from my thoughts.

My feet carry me swiftly to the stream and I hurriedly fill His canteen with water. I gaze longingly at the cool clear water, but don't dare take any for myself. I scurry back to Him, get down on my knees, and hand Him the filled canteen, holding it up over my head. He takes it from my outstretched hands, gulps down a lot of the water, and pushes back His greasy hair before He grabs the rope and ties it back to His saddle and climbs onto the horse. I bite my tongue to keep from making any noise as the horse moves forward faster than before. The heat of the sun beats down on my skin and makes me want to slow when I have to speed up in order to not be dragged behind the horse.

I know not where He is going, only that from the position of the sun it seems to be south. He seems tense as He rides, not ceasing until nightfall. When the horse stops and He gets off, the rope is untied from the saddle and the horse is left to roam free for the night. The horse has more freedom than me; it can roam and do as it pleases so long as it carries Him when asked. There are times when I envy the horse and its freedom.

He grabs the rope and yanks me forward. Striding towards a tree with protruding roots, He ties the rope and my wrists so close to the roots that the only position I can be in is laying with my hands under my chest. The rough bark of the tree's roots dig into my hands as well as every bit of my body that comes in contact with them. Though it is so uncomfortable that it borders painful, I love being out here and seeing things that I have never seen before. I hadn't seen a tree up close before and I am in awe at how tall, wide, and strong it is. The many different colors and textures, from the rough-gnarled bark, to the smooth veined leaves; all that I have seen so far is amazing to me, so new and beautiful. His home is in a land of rocks and dirt. Sparse trees and brush are all that grows there; He said that it was perfect, for there is no place to hide.

Hunger gnaws at my stomach, thirst claws at my parched throat. It seems as though the two are fighting a war to see who can be noticed more before one or the other is sated. I know not when I will next be given something to eat or drink. I can only hope that it will be soon if this journey is to last much longer.

I know not what I am. He tells me that I am lower than everything, that I am nothing. Yet that does not tell me what I am. I am sure that I am no dwarf, nor am I a goblin; is it too much to ask to know what I am? I cannot ask Him, for he has forbidden me to speak or to even utter a sound. I am not sure that I remember how to speak. It has been many years since the last time I spoke. There is so much that I want to know: the names of plants, who inhabits the lands around us, how big the world is. Are there really places that are covered in snow and others that are covered in trees?

My feet ache from walking all day and trying to keep up with the horse. I shift a little to let my feet be in the cool, soft grass and earn a slap for daring to move. I slowly move my head to the side a little more and notice Him standing above me. His hand is suddenly pushing on the back of my head, forcing it to turn towards the earth and then pressing down, my forehead and face pressing hard into the bark. His hand presses harder on the back of my head, pressing as hard as he can for a few moments before he lets go and lays on his bedroll. I don't dare move, not even to lift my forehead from the rough bark. Knowing that if I do, worse will come.

Exhaustion takes me a while later and I can only hope that sleep is dreamless this night, so I can be as rested as possible for the continued journey on the morrow.


	2. A town called Bree

**Thank you for reading, please leave a comment as it is helpful when I write more. I hope that you enjoy the story.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though) **

2.

It took two weeks before a town was reached. My skin burned and itched, my feet hurt and my body felt heavy as I stumbled along behind the horse; He didn't stop until He reached an inn. I lift my head slightly and look up at the sign that hangs above the door of the inn, my face stinging as He slaps me a little harder than usual for looking up. He unties my hands from the saddle, hands the horse's reins to a stable boy, and grabs my wrist in a crushing grip, pulling me inside the inn behind Him. I don't dare look up, though I so desperately want to see this place which He has brought me to. Instead, I look at the floor and try to learn what I can of this place from its wooden planks—as well as from listening to what goes on around me.

There is so much in this world that I do not know. This was immediately evident. My ears are bombarded by hundreds of different sights and sounds: people speaking in many different languages, dancing, music, many different voices—all of them talking-joking-arguing-singing, fire crackling and popping, sounds of food cooking, ale being poured, horses outside, and the smoke filling the air from the puffing of various pipes. It was nearly sensory overload and I had only just stepped inside the inn.

I was so distracted by listening to what was going on around me that I didn't realize that He was done until He jerked my arm roughly and practically drug me up the stairs and into a room. Upon closing the door behind Him, He flings me across the room where I smacked against the window ledge and crumpled to the floor. White-hot pain lances up my spine. I lay still for a moment and then slowly move my arms under me and push myself up, all the while keeping my head down and hiding my face with my tangled hair. He steps towards me and places His foot in the middle of my back and presses down. His boot digs hard into my spine, and forces me back to the floor. My eyes water from the added pressure as he leans down and whispers harshly, His voice full of venom.

"Don't think that I didn't notice that you were distracted, Thing. Tonight you shall regret that. _You _are **mine, **Thing, and no other's. Don't you dare forget that." He presses a little harder on my spine before shoving off with His heel and grabbing the saddle-bags—which he then throws at me.

"Unpack my items necessary for a bath Thing; do **not** touch anything else. Do you understand me?" He was practically growling the last part, and all I could do was nod frantically and hope that I didn't make Him angrier than He already was.

I get to my feet as quickly as I can, managing to keep silent even as my spine screams at me not to move. I pull open His bag and, after some searching, I hand Him the items He wanted…all the while keeping my head down. He hits me once on His way out of the room. I don't move until the door is shut and I am sure that He can no longer see me. Keeping my ears open for any hint of His return, I slowly lift my head and look around the room of the inn. My eyes dart all around the room, trying to take in all the new sights at once. My gaze is drawn to a map hanging on the wall near the door; I cautiously move forward and get my first look at what my world and the lands within it, looks like. My hands and knees move silently as the map draws me closer. I want to see all the details and the lands which are defined and held on its surface. One of the few things that I know about where I am now is that the inn at which He has arrived is in a town called Bree. Now I know where Bree is, though I do not know how far away it is from other places on the map, how far is it to the next town, or even the nearest landmark, these "Weather Hills". I gaze longingly at the places and countries on the map for a while longer before I tear my eyes away from it and instead move slowly and silently over to the window, hoping to see some of the world and the people who live here. The world beyond that is seen through the window is intriguing, so many new things to see and so many people as well. Even though the day is overcast, there are not many people wearing cloaks. Yet, there is one cloaked figure that moves through the town like an ill wind. All the towns-people move away from him, and he moves silent as a shadow, not looking at anything—though it seems he is aware of everything and everyone. He reaches the inn and moves inside, and I can no longer see him. There are merchants and farmers, there are women and drunkards, there are also strange people who are smaller than everyone else and who are without shoes.

There is movement behind the door. I scurry as silently as I can to kneel in the place He left me. Hopefully He will not notice that I was not there the whole time. He emerges into the room and strides around for a few moments before I feel my head ripped back as His hand grabs hold of my hair and pulls. His grip and pull on my hair brings my head back and exposes my throat to Him, I stare carefully at His chest and try to suppress a shudder as He grins maliciously at me. He moves His hand and strokes a finger down my taut throat then back up to my face. His hand covers my entire face as He slaps me hard enough to make my head jerk in His grip. My eyes close and I let my mind leave for a moment as He continues to hit me with a sort of violence and ferocity that He did not often use, He was far angrier than He had let on. With a final hard slap, He tosses me to the floor, turns away, and speaks in a cold voice.

"Get me some food, Thing, and do not be too long or your punishment tonight will be worse. If my food is not hot when you get here, you shall be taught the meaning of the word **pain**. Do you understand me, Thing?"

I nod my head quickly and shakily get to my feet; I stumble out of the door and run down the stairs, not looking up from the floor as I race to find the inn-keeper to order some food for Him. The pain in my spine has faded a little and it is no longer quite as agonizing to move, yet my face throbs and I am a little lightheaded from his vicious slaps.

I was moving so quickly that I failed to notice that someone was in front of me, and I ran right into what felt like a solid wall, sending me tumbling to the ground and not moving the person more than an inch. I keep my head down, staring at my bare feet and trying to be unnoticed. I peer out from under my bangs and catch sight of a pair of muddy and weathered boots. They look well-worn and sturdy. A hand appears in front of me and I flinch away from it. I clench my eyes shut tightly, expecting a blow, and feel a hand grab my wrist and pull me up. Slowly, I open my eyes and give a bow to the person that I bumped into. I start to edge around the person, then I feel a firm and strong hand under my chin lifting my face up. Instantly I find a place at the person's chest to look; though I notice that it is the man that I had watched from the window. Fingers move over my face, gentle even though they are callused. I glance as discreetly as possible upwards and see his blue-grey eyes watching me. They harden as he notices something, and he turns my face slightly to look at it better. My body begins to tremble and suddenly he is gone. The only proof that he was even there is the last lingering feeling of the gentlest touch that I have ever felt from anyone: his fingers and hand on my face.

Abruptly I shake myself and hurry forward to find the inn-keeper. I cannot keep Him waiting any longer; I am already in trouble and I do not want to have a worse night than the one that He has already promised that I will have. My feet carry me forward and I hope that I have not taken too long. I shall have to move faster once I have His food. I have to get back as fast as I possibly can.


	3. Broken rule

**Thank you for reading, please leave a comment as it is helpful when I write more. I hope that you enjoy the story.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though) **

3.

Ordering and then delivering His meal went without further incident, though I was sure that someone was watching me the entire time that I walked up the stairs and into His room. The food was warm when He accepted it from me. He grunted and then pointed to a corner of the room; I scurried to the indicated corner and sat there with my legs drawn up to my chest, staring at my feet as He ate. I remained there while He ate, only moving when I heard His footsteps near me. There is a moment of stillness during which neither He nor I move, then my wrist is seized in a crushing grip and I am yanked to my feet. I bite my tongue as my arm is nearly ripped from its socket. He binds my hands tightly with the rope from before. He jerks the rope, pulling me forward as He moves to the window and opens it wide. It was raining now, a downpour that instantly drenched everything. He grabs the back of my head and forces it forward, forcing my head farther out the window as His grip on the rope pulls my arms away and farther into the room. He kept pushing my head, neck, and shoulders out the window, while He pulled my arms and body away until I accidently whimper from the pain of being pulled in two different directions. I am let go and I crumple into a soaking-wet-heap on the floor. He yanks me back to my feet and backhands me, my head jerks to the side, and my face stings. His voice is cold. There is no warmth left in the room, for His voice has seeped all warmth and all life from the room.

"**_I _**told you **_NEVER_** to speak or make sound! In the morning I will make sure that you can never make another noise again, Thing!"

He pulls me up and forward, my feet not touching the ground before He lowers His arm and allows me to come in contact with the floor. He strides towards the door, pulling me after Him and not caring if I hit the door or every step on the way down.

He dragged me down the stairs, though I was trying not to stumble more than I already had, to the main room of the inn. My knees were shaking when my feet finally made it to the bottom of the stairs and followed Him to the door of the inn. There was barely a pause from the moment in which He reached the door and the moment when He pulled me out of the inn and tossed me to the ground beside the building. I was instantly covered in mud and even wetter. I attempted to rise to my knees, but I was pushed down by His boot resting on my shoulder and forcing me back to the ground. My arms were pulled upwards and bound to the hitching post beside the horses. I didn't look up from the mud when He spoke, and I bit my tongue hard as He pushed down harder on my shoulder.

"You will remain here for the night, Thing. Be grateful that you are not somewhere else at the moment, though you will be soon enough."

He grabbed my face and twisted my head to make me look at Him, He was searching it for something and the look in His eyes scared me. It was hungry.

"On the morrow you will permanently be made silent and then we shall see about the rest of your punishment."

With one last kick to my side, He turned on His heel and went back inside the inn. I was left alone in the rain, the mud, and the cold; bound to the hitching post, deathly afraid of what would happen in the morning, and unsure of the meaning behind the look He gave me.

The only things that I looked at for the first two hours were my knees and the growing pool of water around me. The rope tightened and dug into my wrists, I could hear laughter and knew that a great deal of it must have been directed towards me, though I wasn't sure what was funny. As darkness fell and the rain continued to pour at an alarming rate, there were more people approaching the inn. Though none said anything or even stopped, I knew that many were staring at me until they moved inside and banished all thoughts of the girl outside in the rain, from their minds. I am not sure how long I had been out there—the passage of time meant even less than normal to me—when a pair of muddy-well worn-leather boots approached and came to a stop in front of me. I didn't bother looking up; hoping that whoever it was would go away and leave me alone instead of harassing me. It wasn't until a gentle hand was placed on my shoulder that I realized that this person was different. I didn't let the pain in my shoulder show as the gentle hand touched me. I wanted to keep the hand there for as long as I could. It felt so…nice and comforting. The hand on my shoulder moved under my chin and gently tilted my face upwards to find the blue-grey eyes of the strange man from the window, looking at me with an unfathomable expression.

Never before had I wished to know the expression on a person's face. Yet now I wanted to know and understand this strange man's expression and the kindness in his eyes.


	4. The man from the window

**Thank you for reading, please leave a comment as it is helpful when I write more. I hope that you enjoy the story.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though) **

4.

Being with Him had taught me many things: never expect kindness nor gentleness, always do as you are told, disobedience is not an option, and there is no comfort to be had. Yet here was this stranger who was being kind…at least I thought he was. The stranger's eyes had been kind and comforting until he had noticed something. Now they were hard, angry, and rather scary.

He had looked at me like that many times, for some reason when this man looked at me that way, it was different and I wanted to not be seen—to disappear from his gaze, so that the man wouldn't look at me the same way that He did. My chin was released and the stranger raised a hand above me. I closed my eyes tightly and flinched away from the man. I was trembling from the cold, the rain, and fear; I don't know what I had done to make this man angry, and I knew it was too much to ask that I be unharmed by this stranger whom I had angered.

My hands are untied and taken tenderly in larger hands. The stranger slowly pulls me to my feet and leads me inside the inn; it feels different to be carefully led somewhere instead of yanked behind someone. I am led into the warmth of the inn and the man lets go of my hands, covered in mud I stand there dripping wet, and shivering. I wrap my arms around myself in an effort to gain some warmth as, well as to perhaps comfort myself, as I unconsciously begin rocking back and forth on my feet. The stranger scrutinized me for a long moment—his gaze seemed to see past the surface and deep into my being. He turned and began speaking quietly to the innkeeper who seemed slightly afraid of this man. As they talked, I stood there frozen in place and quickly filling up with a sense of dread; I wasn't where He had put me, and when He found out, I was going to be in more trouble than I already knew that I was.

**Narcomus' POV:**

It had been a rather dull evening, after Thing had been tied outside like the beast she was, and quiet evenings never suited him. The knife, which he had chosen to remove Thing's tongue, had already been sharpened. The food had been eaten, and there was an appalling lack of paid women around this dismal town. Though that particular need could be taken care of rather soon, once a tongue had been removed from a particularly irritating wench. Even better was the fact that she wouldn't refuse. He wouldn't have to pay her either, and as the journey was going to take many months…he could probably use the wench several more times before their destination was reached. Perhaps that hadn't been part of the arrangement, yet the white wizard could hardly argue that she wasn't alive and for the most part intact. After all, that had been what he wanted. Yes, Thing would be delivered to Isengard as planned.

A smirk grew upon his face as he glanced out the window and noticed that it was raining harder. Getting to his feet, he strode to the window and looked down at the hitching post where he had tied Thing. It only took him a couple of seconds to realize that she wasn't in the mud where he had left her; instead she was being led into the inn by someone. Rage filled him, coursed through his veins like fire it lent him a speed and strength that would normally have been beyond him. He threw the door open and stormed down the hall. People shrunk away from him and clambered to get out of his way. He moved silently down the stairs, everyone who saw him could tell that he was beyond furious.

Thing was standing near the entrance, head down, rocking slightly on her feet, and her scrawny arms-which he could clearly remember how it felt and how easy it had been to snap the bones of-were wrapped around herself in a gesture he instantly recognized, as her trying to have some comfort from a world where she would get none. The rage continued building inside him. He was a little miffed that no one attempted to stop him—he would have liked to take out more than just the wench—Thing didn't even look up when he approached her. She had learned something at least. His hand lifted, swung forward and a loud smacking sound rang through the inn when it came in contact with her face. He watched in satisfaction and contempt as she flew a couple feet and hit the doorway. A smirk appeared on his face as she crumpled to the ground at his feet, exactly where she belonged.

Narcomus failed to notice the silence that had fallen upon the inn. He failed to notice the look of hatred that came from a man in a long cloak near the innkeeper. He failed to notice a blade coming out of its sheath…he only noticed the trembling girl before him. He placed his foot on the back of her neck and added enough pressure to cause her pain, towering over her he spoke in a deadly voice.

"It seems that you have not stayed where you were placed. Your defiance will cost you dearly. You will lose far more than simply your tongue now, Thing." He pulled a knife from his belt, removed his foot from her neck and reached down to grab hold of her hair, only to have a blade pressed against his throat.

**Normal POV:**

My body was shaking as He reached for me to grab me. My face hurt more than it had in a while, and I had never been so afraid before. I felt His fingers brush against the back of my neck, then they froze. His hand stopped moving towards me. I heard a voice, a voice so cold that it seemed to freeze the very blood in my veins when it spoke.

"Step away from her, _now._"

The man from the window was standing to the right of Him and had his sword pressed against His throat. If the man had been angry when he released me, then he was furious now. The man's eyes were cold and hard, glaring at Him as though wanting to turn Him into dust. Eyes never leaving Him, the man reached towards me with his free hand and moved his fingers in a clear order to take the hand offered to me. I hesitantly placed my trembling hand in his and was promptly pulled to my feet, and pushed behind the man who held a sword to His neck. The man turned his blade enough to make the tip of the sword dig into His neck and press just enough to get Him to back away. With every movement, the man kept me behind him; shielding me from Him and making Him go back up the stairs. At the foot of the stairs He slowed, looked at the man with hatred, then He turned and walked up the stairs. The strange man waited for a moment and then slowly turned to look down at me, his sword at his side and an expression of sorrow on his face. Though what the sorrow was for, I did not know.


	5. Anger and kindness

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

5.

The man from the window looked down at me for a long moment before he took my wrist in his strong grip and led me up the stairs to a different room and shut the door behind me. He kept a firm grip on my wrist as he moved around the room, lighting the candles scattered around the room, adding wood to the fire, and then moving to the center of the room. I knew he was looking at me, watching me intently as though he was waiting for something; I stared at my feet, hoping that the fact that I was trembling wouldn't be noticed and trying not to give in to the panic that was gathering inside me.

I know not what this strange man will do to me. This man with the cold gaze, a sword, and cloak which shrouds him in darkness…why did he tell Him not to touch me and then sent Him away at the point of his sword? That action—as well as taking me from the post outside—is going to have consequences, I shall be in even more trouble when I am returned to Him in the morning. I do not think that He shall only take my tongue, though I do not know what else He will do when I am returned to Him.

The strong yet gentle grip on my wrist never lessened, even as his other hand came under my chin and lifted my head up. Moving his hand to tilt my head at different angles, as though he was searching for something; his mouth became a grim line and I knew that if I saw his eyes, then they would be beyond furious. They would be cold and hard, appearing like a storm was behind them and only barely held back by some unknown force. What had I done to already make this man so angry?

My face was turned to the left and almost instantly, a low growl emanated from the man. I knew what he had seen—a long and wide scar from the back of my neck, around and over my shoulder, going over my collarbone before disappearing in the tatters of my dress. I don't understand why the sight of such things would bother this man; they are a normal part of life, so why should seeing them upset him so? The man lets go of both my wrist and face, turns and walks to the other side of the room where he rummages through what must be his bag. As he searches for something, he speaks, and though his voice is carefully controlled…I can hear the anger in it.

"Please sit down. It doesn't matter where."

I glance around the room and then move towards the fireplace. Slowly, I slide down the wall next to it and sit there with my legs to my chest and reveling in the warmth of the fire. I stare at the floor in front of me, and attempt to hide my muddy feet under my even muddier skirt; I don't want to leave mud in the strange man's room, though apparently it is inevitable, as I am covered in it.

The man approaches me so silently that I do not notice him until he is kneeling before me. There is an odd looking tool in his hand, it is jagged on one side, notched on another, and seems to have a sharp blade at the end. I move backwards until my back is as against the wall as it could possibly be, my eyes close tightly and I hope that whatever he intends to do with that tool will be over quickly, though it is pointless to hope that it will be painless. Nothing happens. Very slowly, I open my eyes to see the man watching me with a sad expression on his face, he reaches a hand out and takes hold of my leg and pulls it towards him. The tool in his other hand approaches my ankle, his eyes never leaving my face, the notched part of the tool sliding into the metal cuff on my ankle and removing it after a couple seconds of him fiddling with it. The metal cuff falls to the floor, I stare at it with widened eyes and fail to notice when he releases my leg from his grip.

I cannot seem to tear my gaze from the circular piece of metal that lies on the floor at my feet. I am unaware of everything else until the man picks me up in his arms. I do not know what he wants from me, my body trembles in his arms and though I hope that it goes unnoticed; my hopes are dashed when he speaks.

"It is alright, I won't hurt you. You are safe now; there is no need to be frightened." The man's voice is soft and sad, yet he doesn't seem to be angry anymore and that is more confusing than when he was angry, for I do not know what I did to make him angry, nor what made his anger vanish.

The man from the window sets me down on one of the two beds in the room, pulls a blanket up over my shoulders as though I was a child, then he turned and walked towards a chair by the fire. The man sat in that chair and watched the flames dance in the fireplace, he didn't move, not even when loud voices moved down the hallway outside. It was strange yet comforting in an odd way, and I found myself falling asleep before the strange man moved from the chair and added more wood to the fire.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	6. Hobbits?

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

6.

I could feel myself beginning to wake up, and I clung to the last vestiges of sleep, not wanting to wake up and go back to Him. Wanting instead to stay in the soft bed that felt more comfortable than anything I had ever slept on, I knew that this was wrong, yet I still clung desperately to sleep and the warmth of the bed. The sun has risen enough that it peeks through the curtained window and warms everything it touches…the sun, He will be expecting me, and I no longer have the cuff. I have come to expect punishments for things, small things, big things, for simply existing, yet with this strange man…I know not what to expect or even what I have done to make him both angry and sad. This alone frightens me, perhaps a little more than the fate that I know awaits me when I am returned to Him.

I do not want to get up, or even to move from what has to be the most comfortable object in all of Middle-earth. However the sun tells me that it is time to wake up and I must go back to Him today. I push myself up and into a sitting position. I look around the room and finally see the man standing near the window, seemingly watching something; a pipe in one hand, the other on his sword, obviously wary of something. Though I do not make a sound, he somehow seems to know that I am awake, for he begins speaking, though he doesn't turn from the window.

"You will not be returning to that…man. There is a dress as well as some boots for you at the end of the bed; you will need to be ready to leave within the hour. We have a long journey ahead of us, and we have already delayed too long." For the most part the man's words were calm, anger only evident in the first part of his instruction.

Moving as silently as I could, I retrieved the dress and hurried into the bathing room in order to change. Once the dress was on, it was warmer than I had thought it would be, and I felt…different, as though wearing a dress which was not in tatters and filthy had changed something, though I knew not what. The boots were odd, I couldn't remember ever wearing something over my feet before, yet I was sure that the man thought that I would need them and so I wore them.

Upon emerging from the bathing room, my old dress was plucked from my arms and tossed into the flames, where it went up in flames in an instant. The man's actions startled me, he startled me even more so when he took my wrist, his bags which had been by the door, and quickly left the room. I had to hurry to keep up, for he took the stairs two at a time. The strange man had extremely long legs which made it difficult for me to keep up, yet I knew he was in a hurry and so, I had to move my feet faster and hope that I wouldn't be in trouble.

He only stopped walking when we reached the edge of the town, he placed the bags on a horse that had been standing nearby and then he scanned the area as though he was looking for someone. Apparently he did not find who he was looking for, he was soon muttering under his breath. I only managed to catch a few words, but that was enough to know that he was muttering about the slowness of something called "hobbits" and that they had already wasted enough time that morning. I remembered that a hobbit was one of those short people who at first glance looked like children, the only time I had seen one was from the window, the same day that I saw the man, who it seemed, would not be returning me to Him.

The man glanced at me and then turned to rummage in one of his bags, after a moment he turned and extended a brush towards me. I took it with trembling hands; he nodded once at the brush and then returned to searching, nearly impatiently, for the hobbits. It took some time, but I managed to brush the knots from my hair, I suppose that he did not want me to look as I had, though I do not know how my hair looked or even what it looks like after the brushing. I handed the man the brush back and he stowed it away just as four short people hurried over to us, all of them had pockets bulging with what appeared to be mushrooms, sausages, bacon, and bread. These must have been the hobbits, there was one with dark curly hair, two were blonde—though one was curly-headed and the other one wasn't, which I thought was odd for the hobbits that I had seen this far, and the fourth was a reddish-brown and he had rather curly hair as well.

All four of them looked at me curiously—it was hard to avoid their faces as they were so much shorter than I, before turning to the man, the one with dark hair spoke to him.

"I didn't know that a girl was coming on this journey, Strider. " He spoke with distrust in his voice, and all of the hobbits seemed to be looking at both of us, though mostly the man—who was apparently called "Strider"—with uncertainty.

"I did not know myself, until last night, Mr. Underhill. I will keep an eye on her; she is not someone who should worry you. Now come, we have wasted enough time already." Strider spoke in little more than a whisper, yet I was sure that every hobbit caught his words. He spoke the name "Underhill" as though he didn't believe it, and the hobbit in question shifted a little at the name, as though he wasn't used to it.

The man—Strider, turned and left the town with such long strides that the four hobbits and I were left without a doubt that we should follow or else risk being left behind.

The hobbits were strange. They seemed to think that anyone taller than them was a giant, for they called everyone else "big-folk"; they continuously talked about food, or else ate from the food which they had stuffed into their pockets. I soon learned that their names were: Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam; it seemed as though they were all related in some way, for they spent a good portion of the morning discussing their respective family trees. It wasn't until midday that we discovered what our destination was; Rivendell. For some reason we were on our way to what Strider said was "One of the last places where there was safety and there-in dwelt the elves." The hobbits were astounded at this piece of information, and it seemed that they were as excited to see elves as I was.

By nightfall my feet hurt more than I thought possible, for simply wearing boots. It seemed as though the hobbits weren't used to walking so far or at least for so long as we had that day, Strider seemed hardly out of breath when he told us to stop for the night. I hurried forward to take the bags off the horse, only to have them taken out of my hands by Strider. He set them down and staked the horse so he wouldn't wander off during the night, Strider wouldn't let me do what I knew I had to. He didn't bind my hands to anything to keep me from leaving, the hobbits watched me curiously and I began to worry. Strider was very different from Him, and I had no idea what he had taken me from Him for, Strider didn't seem to want me doing what I had done for Him and he didn't tell me what he did want me to do. I was steadily growing more confused as well as afraid, what did this Strider want me for and why had he taken me from Him?

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	7. Ruins upon a hill

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

7.

Strider moved so swiftly that the hobbits and I nearly had to jog in order to keep up, yet he never seemed to tire. At the speed that we traveled, it only took a few days before we reached a place which Strider called "Weathertop". It was an amazing sight. It was a hill, standing alone with the remains of a once great watch tower visible against the setting sun. As I gazed at the ruins of the tower, I wondered how it was destroyed, what kind of people used to live here, and where did they go?

I had seen so many new and different things in the past few days, and I was continually in awe of everything that I saw. From the myriad of stars in the sky at night and the brightness of the moon, the warmth of the sun, the many different kinds of trees, the grass and flowers, the sounds of birds, even the rocks were different. The hobbits would give me strange looks whenever they noticed my near constant amazement at my surroundings, however Strider was another matter. Whenever he noticed me looking around at everything, or touching different parts of nature; he would get a strange look on his face, his mouth would form a hard line, his eyes would become clouded with anger, and he would move forward with at a swifter pace than before.

Though I was in awe of my surroundings, and wanted to see so much more of the world around me, I felt…lost. No one hit me anymore, and while it was a nice change, I wasn't told to do anything either; when I attempted to do anything, Strider simply shook his head and told me to sit. I didn't know what my purpose was with Strider, he had taken me from Him, yet what did he want or even intend for me to do?

I had wandered away from the others, looking at the ruins in fascination and sadness, when I heard someone coming up behind me. Turning, I saw Strider standing with a torch and his hand on his sword; I dropped to my knees and waited for him to tell me what he wanted me to do. I was surprised to feel a hand grasp my upper arm and gently pull me upwards to stand in front of him; his hand on my arm moved under my chin and lifted my face to make me look at him. Strider's face was saddened by something, yet there was much kindness in his face as well, and his voice was gentle when he spoke…as though he thought me a wild animal or a skittish horse that would bolt if startled.

"Do not kneel, I promised you that you would be safe. I know that this must be confusing for you, but please trust me when I say that the life you have previously known, no longer exists. Whatever you were before, you are that no longer. " He extended a hand towards me and continued speaking in a calm voice, though I could hear the underlying sadness and I wished that I knew the cause of it. "Come with me. I need to scout the area around Weather Top before we can really make camp for the night."

I took his hand, my head reeling from what he had told me-if he did not take me from Him to have me for the same purpose, than why did Strider take me from Him? I followed him as he moved down the hill, circling around the ruined tower and making sure that the area was secure. I looked back at Weathertop and noticed that the hobbits had started a fire—most likely to cook something that they had picked up along the way, I liked the hobbits, they were fun, and had odd ways of encouraging each other to keep going.

Strider had bent down to study something on the ground, when a loud-high pitched shriek split the night—it sent chills down my spine and seemed to freeze the blood in my veins, it was more frightening than anything I had ever heard. Strider muttered something under his breath, sprang up, and started running back towards Weathertop; I paused for only a moment before following him. I had no idea what made that noise and I didn't want to go near it, yet Strider seemed to think that it was headed for the hobbits, so I had to follow or else be left alone in the dark.

When I reached Weathertop, Strider was waving his torch at a figure in black. It sent a chill through the air, a chill of fear and despair permeated from it, as well as from the other identical figures who were fleeing from Strider's torch, and the flames which had begun to cover them. They let out unearthly shrieks as they burned, they turned and ran away into the night; then there was only one left and Strider's back was to it. I watched, terrified as the figure approached him, then without warning, Strider turned and threw the torch into the hood of the being, lighting it on fire and sending it shrieking into the night.

The hobbits were crouching near a ruined pillar, watching Strider in a mixture of awe and apprehension and trying to do something for Frodo who was in obvious pain. There was blood running down his shoulder. Strider hurried over to him and picked up a sword which had fallen to the ground, when he picked it up; it dissolved into dust as he spoke.

"He has been stabbed by a Morgul blade. This is beyond my skill to heal, he needs Elvish medicine."

Strider dropped the hilt of the sword as though it had burned him; he moved forward between the hobbits, picked up Frodo and put him on the horse. Frodo screamed as he was moved and placed on top of the horse, the wound in his shoulder aggravated by every movement.

Strider pushed us all even faster down from Weathertop and across the land, it was vital that we got to Rivendell as soon as possible. I did what I could to help him stay on the horse, walking at his side and giving him water when he needed it, trying to do my part in keeping him alert and hopefully alive. I could only hope that we would make it to Rivendell in time.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	8. Trolls and an elf

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

8.

Apparently there are actually trolls in the world. Sam had said that they had been turned to stone because of a wizard named "Gandalf" and another hobbit named "Bilbo", who was apparently Frodo's uncle.

We had been practically running all day and it was once again night. Frodo was not looking very good, he seemed to see things that we couldn't and no attempt at comforting or speaking to the hobbit, calmed him down. His eyes seemed to have developed a film over them, he kept making odd gasping noises, and he was starting to sound like those figures that Strider had chased away, the night before. It made chills go down my spine, from simply remembering those creatures from the night before, and thinking that Frodo-kind-fun-nearly always cheerful Frodo, was going to become one of them. Strider had said that Frodo would become a wraith like the others are, and that he would soon pass into their world.

I felt horrible, for though Frodo so desperately needed help, I couldn't keep myself from staring at the trolls. They were frozen in stone, expression of frustration and confusion, permanently etched onto their faces. There was something strangely fascinating about the trolls, and I felt guilty each time that I caught myself looking at them, instead of trying to do what little there was that could be done, for Frodo. Really all I, Merry, or Pippin, could do was wait for Strider and Sam to come back with something called "Athelas". They had been gone for a few minutes and I did not know how long it would take, or even if they could find the correct plant in the dark.

Pippin wandered over to me and offered me a little of the water from one of the spare pouches and a cloth in his hands. I smiled a little and shook my head, not really thirsty at the moment and we would need the water at some point. He looked at me for a moment before realization dawned on him and he said rather hurriedly.

"No, it's not for drinking. We can't drink this water, me and Merry thought that you might want to wash up…you know after us bein' on the road for so long and without a chance to have a bath." Pippin watched me carefully while he spoke, as though he was trying to figure something out, something he couldn't quite grasp.

I smiled at him and took the offered cloth which he had poured some water onto. I knew that all of the hobbits, but especially Merry and Pippin, had been pestering Strider with questions about me and they were very curious as to why I didn't speak…I couldn't really explain that one to them, though I wanted to talk and laugh with them, it wasn't allowed though.

It did feel good to wash my face, neck and arms; it made me feel a little different though I can't figure out why simply removing some dirt would have that affect. I attempted to hand the now dirty cloth back to Pippin, but he wouldn't take it, he wouldn't even blink. He just stood there staring at me with a mixture of shock, horror, and utter confusion; Merry looked over at us and his face soon mirrored that of his cousins. I didn't know what to do, or even what had happened to make them react so strongly, it made me a bit uneasy and I felt guilty about being grateful when Frodo made another odd gasping noise. I hurried over to him and knelt at his side, leaving the other two hobbits staring after me as I tried in vain to somehow help Frodo, who was slipping farther away and into the realm of shadows.

An ethereal light enveloped us, as a figure came forward from the surrounding forest and knelt at Frodo's side. She had to have been one of the most beautiful females in this world, she seemed to be emitting the light that briefly bathed the clearing where we were, and she had pointed ears. She seemed to glide along the forest floor, she spoke in a strange language, all her attention on Frodo; Strider and Sam followed close behind her. Strider sticking some leaves in his mouth and chewing on them for a moment before pressing them into the wound in Frodo's shoulder, Frodo gasped loudly at his touch. I backed silently away from Frodo, the girl, no…lady, and Strider; trying not to be noticed as I moved backwards into the shadow of one of the trolls.

The lady and Strider spoke in hushed voices for a moment before Strider picked up Frodo and lifted him up onto the back of a white horse, poor Sam looked so confused and helpless, I wanted to comfort him but I didn't know what to do. The other two hobbits were still standing there, though they were no longer staring at me. Strider and the lady were conversing in a musical language that sounded like the one that the lady had first spoken to Frodo; they seemed to be arguing about something. Whatever it was, they must have reached an agreement, for the lady swung up into the saddle and she and the horse sped off through the forest. Strider watched them ride off, he seemed torn about something, though I knew not what it could be; Sam hastily got to his feet and began yelling.

"What are you doing? Those wraiths are still out there!"

"I know, Mr. Gamgee. But if there is to be any hope for Frodo, he must get to Rivendell as fast as possible and she will take him there as fast as she is able to." Strider spoke with a calm which belied his worry that they would actually reach Rivendell.

Strider turned and began gathering whatever had been dropped, wanting to be gone as soon as we were able to be. Merry and Pippin finally moved from where they had seemed to be frozen, they walked towards me and asked in astonished voices.

"What happened to you?"

Strider turned towards us and spoke with forced calm, though this time it was clear that he was attempting to mask his anger when he spoke.  
"Many things happened to her, Mr. Took. I liberated her from a most unsafe situation, whether you would believe it or not, she looks better than she did whenI first saw her. The world is not the cheery place that the Shire is. The world is dark and many things similar to this are happening everywhere. We must keep moving, we have tarried too long as it is." His face was grim as he finished speaking, he turned and finished gathering the scattered belongings, and placing them in their appropriate bags.

The hobbits all stared at me, outrage evident, as well as pity and they seemed to understand something which had confused them for some time.  
As we walked through the night and moved steadily towards Rivendell; I thought that what Strider had said wasn't entirely accurate. While there was much wrong doing in the world, there was also much beauty, there were many wondrous things in the world and I think that they help to make up for the bad. Beauty cannot be appreciated without the ugly, the light cannot be seen without the dark…there cannot be one without the other and that is what makes the world around us such an amazing place, for those who would see it.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	9. Lord Elrond of Rivendell

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

9.

On the journey to Rivendell I learned that the hobbits had thought that the bruises on my face, were actually dirt, which was why Pippin had handed me a wet cloth last night. I do not know why the sight of bruises would elicit such a reaction from them. It seems that I have always had some somewhere; it is a normal part of life…why would they be so shocked about seeing the ones I have? Perhaps it has something to do with where the hobbits are from, this "Shire"; perhaps no one has bruises there and that is why it is shocking to them. The hobbits' shock was easier to understand than Strider's anger; I had no explanation for why he would be so angry about such things.

After we left the clearing, the hobbits were still staring at me as we walked through the forest in search of Rivendell, I slowed down enough to drop behind them and be the last in our line. It made me uncomfortable that they were staring at me, I couldn't understand why they were, and I wished that they wouldn't…wishing never gets anyone anywhere though. Hopefully they will stop soon, or find something else which would distract them from whatever is so fascinating about me. I do not understand why something that is so normal, would bother them, it doesn't make sense; I am simply glad that I haven't had anything worse than bruises for a while. Though I suppose that was about to change…why did Strider take me from Him?

I have only seen a small part of the world, have only really been out in it for a few days, and there is so much that I do not understand. One of those things was distances. How far was Rivendell from Weathertop, it had not seemed as though it was very far, when I had seen the map. We had been following Strider for nearly five days, yet it still seemed as though we were in the middle of nowhere; the hobbits were beginning to think that we were lost. I didn't know Strider very well, yet he didn't seem like someone who got lost very easily, he seemed at home out in the wilds…as though he had spent nearly all his life there.

Though we traveled through the night, we did not reach Rivendell until the next day. We walked through the trees until we came to a cliff, once we had cleared the trees, the hobbits and I came to an abrupt halt.

Rivendell was the most beautiful place that I had ever seen, it felt so peaceful here, the elves had built this place with such care, that the entire place seemed to emanate hope and beauty. Everything was open; there were many arches which appeared to be made out of a stone so white that it seemed to be light instead. A waterfall flowed close by and poured into a river which flowed under a bridge as well as the cliff which Rivendell had been built into.

Strider had moved ahead, he stopped and turned back; he let out a sigh and retraced his steps to urge the hobbits onward. He took hold of my arm and pulled me gently forward, I couldn't help staring at Rivendell: the surrounding forest, cliff and river, the elves who were doing various things, and a rather old looking hobbit.

As we stepped from the path and into a courtyard, we were greeted by an elf who wore a most serious expression, Strider bowed to the elf and the hobbits followed suit, I hurriedly curtsied and hoped that I was doing so properly and had not already offended the elves. When he spoke, even his voice was serious.

"Welcome to Rivendell. I am Lord Elrond, and I welcome you to my home. Your friend, Mr. Baggins has been seen to and he is on the mend."

The hobbits cheered up immensely when they heard this, and I could not contain my own joy upon hearing this. Strider and Lord Elrond began conversing in the mellifluous language which I had heard the lady speak, the night before. Another elf appeared and took the hobbits away, presumably to see Frodo. I started to follow, only to have a strong hand clasp around my wrist and hold me in place. Strider did not pause as he spoke to Lord Elrond, yet his grip was strong enough that it prohibited any attempt to leave and follow after the hobbits. Strider was gesturing to me as he spoke, and whatever it was that he was saying could not have been good, for Lord Elrond's expression went from serious to outrage and then anger. I didn't realize that I was shaking until Strider placed a gentle hand on my shoulder; I know he was trying to comfort me, but I was scared of the way Lord Elrond was looking at me. What had I done to make him so angry already, I had only just arrived in Rivendell and I had already made our host angry with me.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	10. Questioned by the elf Lord

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

10.

**Strider's POV:**

I don't think that I had ever seen Elrond as angry as he was when I told him about the girl and what had happened to her. I hated calling her "the girl", but I refuse to call her "Thing", a name would have to be found for her and preferably soon. She had improved a little over the course of our journey to Rivendell; even so, she is clearly afraid, though of what I can only guess. She has seems curious about everything around her, every time I notice her looking around at the scenery or even listening to things such as insects or birds, I cannot help but feel angry again at that…person who I found her with. He had better hope that we never cross paths again, for I will not let him go with only a threat…even now I doubt that leaving him alive was the right thing to do, however I still had business to attend to in Bree and didn't want to get kicked out prematurely.

She had wanted to follow the hobbits, and I wanted her to go with them, yet she needed to be here…not only as evidence but also to be talked to, for she still hasn't spoken and that worries me. If that person hadn't been threatening to remove her tongue, I would have thought that she didn't have one. Elrond will be able to help me with her, if not then Gandalf is supposed to be here soon, he may have an answer.

There is so little that I know about her, really the only thing that I know is that she needed to be out of there, perhaps if we can convince her to speak, then she will be able to answer some questions. Hopefully while she is in Rivendell, she can heal enough that the purple bruising will have completely faded, though I would not be so naïve as to hope that she will completely heal inside. I can feel her shaking, though she tries to hide it, though I cannot really blame her, for Lord Elrond is looking fearsome at the moment.

My hand moved to her shoulder in an effort to let her know that she was safe here, I am not sure that it helped though; what would help is if Elrond would stop looking murderous, yet after what I had told him, I doubted that that would happen any time soon. Elrond's hand grasped her chin gently; he looked intently at her face, turning it to see every angle. When he noticed the scar on her neck, his frown deepened. While Lord Elrond was looking at her, I noticed that she wasn't looking at him, she seemed to be staring off into space; there is much that needs to be explained to her.

Lord Elrond let go of her chin, gave me a look that clearly said "we will talk later about this", and gracefully moved away. Sighing rather heavily I turned to the girl and found her gazing at her feet, trembling slightly, and obviously worried about something. Placing my hand under her chin, I lifted her face to make her look up; her rather large blue-green eyes, were so lost looking. Normally she was quite successful at hiding her emotions; however I had noticed that she had stopped hiding them when she thought I wasn't looking, though it was mostly when she saw something that amazed her.

"Lord Elrond will want to speak to you later. For now, we shall find you a room where you can get cleaned up. There is no need to be afraid while you are here, no harm will come to you while you are in Rivendell."

I know she heard me and understood at least part of what I said, for she nodded her head. It felt odd to lead a person by the hand, yet I doubt that she would have been able to find anything on her own if I hadn't kept hold of her. Her curiosity would have had her stopping to look at things every few feet, while that was perfectly fine on any other day, she would need to be ready to speak to Lord Elrond soon. We came to a room which I had been told would be alright for her to have during her stay here, I left her there after explaining that she needed to bathe and be dressed when I came back for her. She curtsied and backed into the room. This was yet another thing which would have to be addressed in time, and it would require an insurmountable amount of patience. Though I did not regret my decision, I wondered what I was getting myself, Lord Elrond, the other elves, and possible Gandalf into.

**Normal POV:**

I was alone in a strange place full of elves—one of whom was already angry with me, the hobbits were somewhere else, and I would be brought before Lord Elrond as soon as Strider came back for me. Once Strider left, I hurried to the bath which had been drawn; it was odd not to fill the tub myself…it felt almost wrong. When I stepped into the bath, I was so astonished that it was warm that I gasped. Instantly, I looked around rather fearfully and let out a silent sigh of relief, as I saw that I was still alone and that no one had heard the brief lapse in my silence…if He had been there then it would not have gone unpunished. As I sat in the tub-making sure to scrub my skin and wash my hair thoroughly, I thought about Rivendell and the elves who lived here. They were all so perfect looking, each one was ethereal in their beauty, each was exceedingly graceful and proficient in many skills. Mortals seem like clumsy children in comparison. I felt so out of place among them, yet I didn't really want to leave the elves' presence…everything seemed peaceful here, more so than out in the wilds.

After bathing and getting into a different dress which had been laid out, I waited near the door until Strider came for me. He took my hand and led me down several halls, through magnificent archways, past myriads of different rooms, and several elves, until he stopped in front of a door and knocked twice.

A voice spoke in the mellifluous language; Strider entered the room and gently tugged me inside after him. Lord Elrond stood when we entered; he inclined his head at us and Strider bowed. I curtsied and looked at the floor as Lord Elrond spoke to Strider in the language I couldn't understand. After the two of them spoke for a few minutes, Strider moved towards a table and three chairs and indicated that I should sit down while he did the same. Lord Elrond sat in the chair across from Strider and the two of them seemed to be discussing something rather important, for they were both extremely serious.

I don't understand why I am here; I can't tell them anything…it isn't allowed.

Lord Elrond spoke in a deep and serious voice, addressing me for the first time, and I wasn't sure what to do; I certainly couldn't speak to the elven lord.

"Strider has told me what he knows about you, yet there are some things he cannot tell me. Perhaps you can shed some light on these questions. One thing he couldn't tell me is your name, would you mind supplying it for me?"

I lowered my head, staring at my legs, unable to answer his question. If He ever found out that I spoke or even made a sound, then He would be very angry with me. Somehow He would find out, whenever Strider took me back, He would find out and there would be trouble. It was better to stay silent, especially since I wasn't sure it was alright to speak.

Strider looked at me, waiting for a response, so I gave the only one that I could; I shook my head and didn't take my eyes off my legs. I immediately knew that I had done something wrong, for neither of them spoke for a long time and I knew I had made a mistake. Yet another mistake in this realm of the elves who seemed to exude perfection and grace.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	11. Allowed to speak

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

11.

**Lord Elrond's POV:**

The nameless girl, which Strider had brought to Rivendell, sat before me and refused to speak, though perhaps it was something else that was more than a simple refusal. She was scared, that much was certain; of what was a bit harder to figure out, for she was quite adept at hiding her emotions. Her head was bowed and her face was hidden by her black curls, hiding the wide blue-green eyes flecked with gold, which seemed to see into the very soul.

One of the first things I had noticed about this girl—other than the dark bruising on her face and her worryingly thin frame—was her curiosity and awe at her surroundings. If what Strider had said was accurate, then the girl had never seen so much of the world before he took her from the man in Bree. The girl did not answer, either because she couldn't or simply refused, is not clear; perhaps Strider will be able to shed some light on this question.

"_Has she spoken at all since Bree?"_

_"No, Lord Elrond. Nor has she made a sound. I think that she can speak, yet is afraid to."_

_"That shall have to change. We must know more about her and we cannot know more unless she speaks."_

The nameless girl had not moved during my conversation with Strider, indeed it seemed as though she was afraid of moving and drawing attention to herself. Arwen had noticed this as well, when she had seen her when she had taken Frodo and hurried back to Rivendell. This desire to not be noticed, does not bode well for the fate of the man who has had her in his care for who knows how long; perhaps my archers could do with some target practice.

"You may speak and answer questions, young one. You may even ask questions of your own, if you have them. No one here will hurt you for speaking. Strider and I shall make sure that no one hurts you while you are here."

For a moment it seems as though she will not answer, that she will remain silent. Then the moment passes and she speaks in a voice so quiet that hardly anyone other than an elf would have heard her.

**Normal POV:**

I couldn't take my eyes off my legs, couldn't stop staring at the dress, the folds of blue and silver fabric, the intricate designs of vines which covered them. Lord Elrond has given me permission to speak, to answer questions, and to actually ask some of my own. Carefully, I glance over at Strider and he places a gentle hand on my shoulder in encouragement. I have to answer now, even if He finds out when I am returned to him, I have to answer Lord Elrond's questions. My mouth is suddenly dry; I can feel myself trembling in the chair. I swallow quietly a couple times before I am able to get out the words which form the answer to Lord Elrond's question.

"Name is Thing, Lord Elrond."

Instantly I knew that I had said something wrong, had somehow upset them, for there was silence. An oppressive silence that seemed to settle around me and push me farther down in the chair than I already was. I bit my tongue and tried harder to hide behind my hair, wishing that I could disappear entirely.

"I do not think that you will be going by that name any longer. A new name shall be found for you during your stay here. Tell me how old you are please."

I nearly jumped out of the chair when Lord Elrond spoke. His words were kind and he did not seem angry by my answer, even though he wanted to give me a new name instead of using the one I had. What was wrong with the name I had? I would accept whatever new name that they gave me and I would answer to it, come when called, and I would not resist the change to my name. It took longer to answer his next question, as I wasn't sure of the answer.

"Don't know my age. Cannot remember being a child, can only remember being the way I am now. I am unable to tell you my age, Lord Elrond."

My answer was once again met by silence, though it did not last for nearly as long as last time. Lord Elrond continued to question me until the sun was nearly gone, I answered him as best I could; I never raised my head or looked away from my legs. I knew how to behave, knew how to act, and I knew that my answers upset both him and Strider…though I do not know why. With every question, Lord Elrond's voice had grown more grave, and after the last question a heavy silence had once again fallen over the room. I did not move, did not even twitch as the silence stretched on and on.

I nearly fell off the chair when a hand grasped my upper arm and gently pulled me from the chair, then my arm was released and my hand was taken instead. I chanced a glance up and found Strider looking at me; immediately I dropped my head back down and stared at the floor. I heard a sigh and my head was lifted by a hand under my chin, Strider was watching my face intently as he spoke.

"You do not need to keep your head down anymore. You have been brought to a place that is safer than nearly anywhere else in Middle-Earth, and you will **not** be taken back to that man."

Strider's hand cupped my chin as he spoke, though I barely felt it there. Did he really mean that I would not be going back to Him? Strider sighed again and let go of my chin, he gently led me towards the door and out of the room. As he led me away, I noticed that Lord Elrond had already left, and I wondered how long he had been gone. All thoughts of Lord Elrond were gone the minute that Strider led me past several murals, I wanted to stop and look at them, drink in their beauty and let the scenes wash over me, yet Strider was not slowing down. I had to content myself with looking back at them over my shoulder as we passed. Strider did not stop until we arrived at the door to the room I had bathed in, he opened the door and ushered me inside. I spotted some food and drink on a small table, while my back was turned to the door, Strider left. Leaving me alone with a meal and many things to think about, as night fell over the world; not the least of which was what name I would be given. As I sat in my room, I wondered how the hobbits were doing and whether I would be able to see them sometime, I hoped that Frodo was being healed and that he would get better instead of turning into one of the figures in black. Perhaps on the morrow, I would be able to at least catch a glimpse of the hobbits; I missed their smiles and their laughter. I even missed Pippin's near constant grumbling.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	12. Stories and earching for a name

**I am trying to decide which name to give her, feedback would be much appreciated. Thank you all once again for reading.**

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

12.

Frodo did not wake until the following mid-day. I was told that Sam had hardly left his side from the moment that he arrived in Rivendell. What must it be like to have people care so much about you that they would never leave your side while you were hurt or sick? What would it be like to have someone care so much that they would leave behind all their families and their homes, simply to travel to some far off and unknown destination with you? I think that what the wizard said—Gandalf, was true: "You can learn all there is to know about hobbits in a month, yet after a hundred years, they will still manage to surprise you." If such friendship is unique among hobbits, then they must be a wonderful people to be around.

There have been many people arriving from different parts of the world: elves from some place which was renamed "Mirkwood", dwarves, and some men from the different lands. Strider said that there is a council of the free peoples of Middle-Earth which will convene on the morrow, and that is why so many others have arrived.

Merry, Pippin, Strider, and one of the elves who came from Mirkwood, have been trying to find a name for me. Pippin had suggested a few jokingly, though I do not think that Strider thought it was very funny to suggest my name be "Aline". Merry on the other hand, was taking this task far more seriously than I thought he would. He had suggested quite a few names: Annwfn, Anwell, Brenna, Coventina, Donella, Evelyn, Rowena, and Sruthair being but a few of them. Strider and the elf—Legolas, seemed to be considering a few of them, though I don't really understand why it is important that I have a different name.

The wizard, Gandalf, had arrived before the sun. Apparently Lord Elrond had spoken to him, for he came to speak to me shortly after the birds had stopped their morning songs. He didn't ask me many questions, simply sat with me and watched the birds, the clouds, and the river down below. Gandalf pointed out many fascinating things, squirrels that ran in between the trees, the different fish that swam in the water, and how when the light hit the water just right, it would make a brilliant arch of colors. Though he did not ask me questions, once in a while I would notice him staring at me. Ever since my arrival to Rivendell, elves, men, and dwarves alike have been staring at me, it makes me uncomfortable, and I do not know why they do so.

I like being in Rivendell, for the most part. It is so peaceful, and so beautiful here that it seems to be a place that is hard to leave, yet for some reason I find myself wondering about the places beyond Rivendell. Places like the ones that the men, elves, and dwarves have come from. To see mountains, great forests that stretch farther than the eye can see, towering cities, wide open plains of rolling grass…what must those places be like, will I ever get to see them?

Often after thinking about this, I wonder what will happen to me. Lord Elrond, Strider, Gandalf, and even Legolas have said that I will never be taken back to Him, yet that doesn't tell me what I am to do now. Or even where I am to go. Since Strider took me from Him, I feel that I am to go wherever he goes, to be there whenever he needs me, yet he has told me that I am…free. I have been told that being "free" means that I do not live the way that I lived with Him, that I will no longer be treated that way, and that I can pursue whatever interests that I might have. All that this has told me is that I am not going back to Him and that now all that I have to do is…nothing, only doing what I want to. I do not think that I can do this, it feels so wrong. So very wrong to simply do nothing.

I have discovered one thing which I have an interest in doing, I love listening to stories. Tales of far off lands and of adventures that have taken place there, whether they are from some distant past, or in more recent years. Pippin and Merry took me to see Bilbo, who told me of his adventures to the lonely mountain where he helped defeat a dragon, fought in a battle, and helped many of the dwarves. I listen to the elves stories as well, they are filled wars, love, talking trees, searching for something that was lost and then found again, and the pull that all elves feel to depart this land and sail away. They are sad tales, yet I feel that they are important somehow…every story is important even though it may not seem so at the time.

The hobbits have been very interested in anything to do with cooking here, any of them can nearly always be found somewhere around the kitchens. Though Frodo joins the other three in this, he seems different. I suppose that is to be expected though after being stabbed and then being so near death that the elves had a difficult time healing him. It makes me sad though, and I wish that there was something that I could do to see a bit of the old Frodo again, but Gandalf says that he doubts Frodo will ever be the same again. I feel a great sadness whenever I think of this, for Frodo will never be the care free hobbit that he was before, and to me, there is a great sense of loss; even though I have only known him for a short amount of time. The council will be held in the morning, Frodo has been asked to attend, and I hope that whatever is decided there will bring back a little of his old-care-free self.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	13. Council, promise, allegience

**I am trying to decide which name to give her, feedback would be much appreciated. Thank you all once again for reading.**

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

13.

The council was very long and must have been quite serious, for upon their emergence from said council, everyone's faces were grim. Even the hobbits were serious—apparently the three uninvited hobbits had snuck in somehow—it made me wonder what they had been talking about that would make even the joyful hobbits, serious.

The grim mood of those involved with the council seemed at odds on yet another glorious day in Rivendell. The trees appeared to be dancing in the light breeze, the waterfall and rushing river created a melody to accompany the song of the birds, the sun shone bright enough to be warm, yet not overly so. It seemed the perfect day…to be doing anything other than sitting in a meeting which seemed to be more serious than anything had the right to be.

I was waiting for the hobbits and Strider to leave the council, when the doors opened and people departed to their various destinations; some grumbling, some casting dark looks at others, and some seemingly deep in thought. Strider stood to the side, thinking about something, Pippin hurried over to him, and started speaking quickly; though they were across the hall and there were people between them and me, I could hear what was said.

"Aragorn, can't we tell her? She won't tell anyone, she doesn't even speak unless asked a question. "

I do not know what Strider said in reply, for the moment that Pippin called him "Aragorn", it seemed I was no longer there. I saw something; saw it the moment that his name was uttered.

I saw him fighting in great battles with Legolas and one of the dwarves at his side, I saw him overcome insurmountable odds; saw him running over vast plains. I saw death and destruction surround him; I felt the despair and hopelessness emanating from him as he knelt by a smoking pile of bodies, and then I saw him at the top of a city with a star over his head and a white tree blooming in the center of a courtyard.

I blinked and the moment as well as the vision had passed. Silent as a shadow, I walked towards them; neither of them seemed to notice me until I knelt on the ground at Aragorn's feet. I could see his hands move towards me to pull me to my feet; I had to say what had entered my mind from the moment that I had seen the images. I opened my mouth and spoke clearly even if it was quietly.

"I have seen you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, I have seen what you are to become. You took me away from one world and into another, you saved me and I offer you my life. I promise to serve you however I can, to protect you from deceit, and even to give my life for yours. I give you my life, Aragorn son of Arathorn, and I will serve you my king until the end of my days."

I do not know where some of the words that I said came from, for I had never heard them before. There was a heavy silence that greeted the end of my words. The confidence and sense that I was doing what was right, seemed to have vanished and I did not know what to do. I wasn't even entirely sure what I had done. As I knelt there, I wished that I could disappear, that somehow I could make everyone forget that I had said anything at all. They had been so kind to me—though I wasn't sure why, and now in one long speech I had ruined it. I kept my head down, my hair covering my face, not daring to lift my head and look at anyone; the suddenness of a hand on my shoulder made me flinch. When the hand pulled me to my feet I went willingly, though I still did not look up. I only lifted my head when the hand moved to my chin and lifted my head to meet Aragorn's somewhat startled expression.

**Aragorn's POV:**

Her words and actions had so startled me that I was unsure what to do. I didn't want to agree to let her serve me, she had only just gotten away from that man, and I know that none who knew her wanted her to serve anyone again. I could not ignore her either, she had seen something, that much was clear and somehow she had been given the words she needed to in order to say what she had in such a way that it would be near impossible to deny her. I had to agree. I had to accept her pledge to me, and I had to accept her. However she would not serve me the way that she had been forced to serve that man, she would remain as free as she could be, for I will not allow her to be a servant, regardless of what she thought she was to me.

"I accept your pledge of service. But know this, you will not be treated the way that you were, you are not my servant and I do not wish you to be. You are to remain free, you will not be bound to serve me…it will always be your choice."

I would have to speak to Lord Elrond about this, for I had not seen a way around this, perhaps he would and I would not worry that this would hinder instead of help her on her path to whatever her life held in store for her. One thing was certain…she had to have a name.

**Normal POV:**

It took a minute for his words and their meaning to sink in. That he would allow me to serve him, yet it would be my choice whether I stayed with him my whole life, or not. I curtsied and watched him walk away, seemingly searching for someone. Pippin watched me with a curious expression, as did all those who had remained behind and witnessed what had happened; he smiled at me and then ran off to find Merry. I then returned to the room I had been given, glad to have a purpose again; to serve, follow, and to protect the king.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	14. Useless

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

14.

The rest of the day and most of the night was the most busy that I had ever seen anyone in Rivendell, people were hurrying to various places and there was hardly any time for the customary storytelling after the evening meal. I barely saw the hobbits, Gandalf, or Strider until the following morning—the hobbits were bothering the cooks, Gandalf was either in the library, or with Lord Elrond, and Strider…he had been speaking to Lord Elrond since the first hour after the council was over.

I had tried to help either the cooks, the ones who were finding things, and even the ones setting the table; yet no one had let me help. It was all very confusing. I then retreated to my room, worrying that what I had said today to Strider had been something that was horribly wrong…perhaps I am no longer welcome here for my actions earlier. I sat in one of the chairs, staring out the window at the surrounding forest; I don't know what to do. No one will let me help, nor will anyone tell me what to do, I feel so lost here. It seems that everyone else knows what to do, where to go, and even what needs to be done…even the hobbits are being useful. All I seemed to do was sit still and listen to what is around me, I feel useless here.

Strider appears in the doorway to the room I am occupying, he steps inside when I glance over at the doorway to see who is there. I instantly get to my knees and bow my head, this must not have been the right thing to do, for he sighs and walks towards me. Strider's hand grips my arm and gently pulls me to my feet, his hand moves under my chin; he tilts my face up so he can see it before he speaks.

"Please, do not kneel to me. I am no king, though it I am supposed to become one. It is a path that I do not wish to take, yet it is the one which will help unite the world of men. You need not kneel nor do you need to bow to me. Though I would have it otherwise, it seems that you are to accompany us on our journey to destroy the One Ring in Mordor. We shall need to leave at first light, pack what you will need for a long and arduous journey. "

I looked at his shoulder as he spoke to me, listened intently to his instructions; I was determined to follow them perfectly, so he would have no cause to be upset with me. Yet he did not release my chin. I could feel him staring at me; I chanced a look at his face and discovered that he was gazing intently at me. His thumb brushed over lightly over my cheek, he looked at me for a moment longer before he seemed to come to a decision and he spoke again.

"You shall be called Raven. For, you should be free to fly wherever you choose, to spread your wings which have long been bound and kept you tethered to the ground. May the wisdom of the raven keep you safe and help you look after others."

Strider then leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead, somehow making my new name official with that act. He watched me for a moment longer before he let go of my chin, turned and started to leave, but he stopped in the doorway and spoke for a final time that night.

"I would have you stay here with Lord Elrond where it is safe. Yet it seems that it is your fate to go with us, though I wish it were not so. Sleep well, Raven."

He didn't look back at me as he left the room. He had left me with much to think about, and much to do before the coming dawn. I had to pack for a journey that would take me to someplace known as "Mordor", I only know that it is far away from here, far away from everything I have ever known. Far away from elves, from men, and from hobbits. Far away from forests with leaves of burning gold, far from musical waterfalls and rivers, far from the mountains that could be seen from my window. Far from everything I know…will it be far enough?

**~Dawn~**

The group I am now a part of, has been named "The Fellowship of the Ring". Nearly everyone looked back at Rivendell at least once as they passed through to the outside world; knowing that they were leaving the safety of the elves, for a much harder and uncertain road. The hobbits are excited that I am to come along, though it seems that Pippin is not entirely aware of where we are headed. Gandalf and Frodo lead the way out into the wilds, out into the unknown world, into the dangers that lurk ahead, waiting to weaken and destroy us. Wanting our mission to fail—Gandalf had been trying to warn us of the road ahead, yet I think he has made some of us more worried than before.

There are nine who depart this day from Rivendell, nine who are headed to Mordor. Legolas the elf from Mirkwood, Gimli a dwarf who seems to have a particular dislike for Legolas, Boromir son of the Steward of Gondor, Gandalf a wizard who is extremely wise, the four hobbits from the Shire, and Strider a ranger who is to be a king. To me, it seems an odd assortment of people, yet I am sure that everyone has a reason that they are part of this group.

I walk behind Strider, ready to aid him should he need anything. He and Lord Elrond have said that I am allowed to speak, yet I do not seem to have words to say. Even so, I am excited to see more of the world. Today I am no longer Thing, I have been given a new name—even if I do not know what is wrong with my old one—I am someone new as I depart from Rivendell. I am Raven, and I will follow the king wherever he should go, even unto death.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	15. Tales of the Shire

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

15.

I had thought that my feet hurt on the way to Rivendell; this was far beyond that hurt. It seemed as though the blisters which had formed on my feet, had burst and then formed several more blisters on top. The only others who seemed to be having any discomfort at all were the hobbits, though it seemed that they were faring better than some had thought that they would. However, no one could move as effortlessly as Legolas did, he seemed to glide over the ground, his feet never touching the earth as he walked endlessly onward. No one complained about the rigorous pace which Gandalf set for us, there wasn't a point in complaining about such things when we all knew we had to get where we were going. Yet by the end of the day, Pippin seemed ready to drop. Only Legolas, Strider, Gimli, and Gandalf did not appear dead on their feet; Gandalf said that we must become used to this, for such is our path on this journey.

When Gandalf found a suitable place to stop for the night, everyone got straight to work—setting out bedrolls, gathering supplies for some food, and relieving Bill of his burden. I stuck close to Strider and attempted to take his bedroll in order to lay it out with the others; he shook his head and instead asked me to gather firewood. I hurried to the small copse of trees that stood a little ways away from where the others were, as I walked I wondered why he didn't want me helping him…wasn't I supposed to? As I began gathering firewood, I heard footsteps approaching me from behind, I turned slightly to see who it was and saw Merry smiling at me. I smiled back at him in greeting and he joined me in gathering wood, both for dinner, keeping us warm during the night, and to keep wild animals away.

As we gathered wood, Merry told me of some things that he and Pippin had done together in the Shire. He told of Bilbo's 111th birthday party and how the two of them had snuck into the back of Gandalf's cart, stolen a rather large firework, set it off inside a tent, were then caught by Gandalf and made to wash the dishes after every hobbit in the entire Shire had finished eating. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing, he told the story very well and with lots of arm movements to emphasize parts of his tale. I have no idea what a firework is, though they sound fantastic…perhaps one day I will get to see one. There are many things that I hope to see one day.

When we had gathered so much wood that we could gather no more, we headed back and set the wood in the center of camp. Sam and Pippin already had food ready to be cooked, Boromir and Gimli started to build the fire almost immediately, while Gandalf and Frodo spoke together at the edge of the circle that had been made. Merry went to help Sam and Pippin prepare the food, I was about to go with him when I felt a hand on my arm. I turned to see Strider and Legolas standing behind me, Strider motioned with his hand to follow him and I did so. Walking with them a little ways from the group, I stopped when they did, wondering what was going on. I did not have to wonder long, for Legolas spoke nearly as soon as he had stopped walking.

"It has been decided that you and the hobbits will need to be taught how to defend yourselves, as one of us will not always be right there to protect you. Aragorn and Boromir will be teaching how to use a sword as well as knives; I would like to teach you how to use a bow. I cannot teach the hobbits, for they are not…they have the wrong stature for wielding a bow. Would you care to learn how to defend yourself, Raven?"

I think about what he has said, about learning how to defend myself and by doing so, learning how to protect Aragorn. After a moment of consideration and nod in agreement.

"Then whenever we stop during the day, we will begin teaching all of you how to defend yourselves. Hopefully by the time you will need to use those skills, all of you will have learned enough to be proficient with the blade."

I nod slowly to show that I understand, and that I am willing to learn. Legolas and Aragorn smile at me, then we walk back to the Fellowship and join them around the fire.

I am already learning much on this journey and it seems that on the morrow I will begin to learn how to wield weapons, learn how to protect myself and others, so that I am not a liability in battle. I am nervous about the training which will soon take place, yet I know that it is imperative to know how to do this, the hobbits seem anxious about this as well. Hopefully it will help that we will learn together.

The sky is so full of stars at night, I yearn to stay awake and simply watch them, to see them dancing in the sky high above us all. They seem to be speaking to each other in their twinkling language, speaking of what they can see below them. All of us fall asleep looking at the stars, we have an early morning ahead of us and another long day of walking. We are all aware that our journey has only begun.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	16. Arrows and spies

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

16.

The sun dawned at what seemed to be far too early an hour. There were many in our group who were none too happy about rising with the sun—only Legolas and Gandalf were not upset about rising so early, and not even the brilliant display of oranges, gold's, and pinks among the clouds, could brighten the general outlook on the morning. Frodo seemed resigned as he gathered his things and strapped his pack on his shoulders, while Sam and Pippin looked nearly mutinous. Merry was attempting to cheer everyone up by telling them stories or saying how wonderful the sunrise looked, even as his cousin muttered under his breath.

"'Tisn't natural to get up this early. All honest, decent people are still abed at this hour."

Legolas turned around to hide a smile as he heard the hobbit's muttering, and while Gimli grumbled, he too was soon ready to depart. I bent down to pick up my pack, hiding a wince as my blisters once again made themselves known—wouldn't going barefoot as the hobbits did be more practical instead of wearing boots, taking one last look at where we had spent the night, I got to my feet and we started walking. Drawing ever closer to the mountains which we had seen from Rivendell.

We walked through grasslands, devoid of any trees, holding only rocks and boulders which jutted out of the ground at odd angles. It was not until after mid-day that Gandalf allowed us to halt, yet there was to be no rest, for Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir summoned the four hobbits and I over to them; it was time to begin our training. Each of the hobbits brought out the daggers which Aragorn had given them at Weathertop, Boromir and Aragorn started to teach the hobbits some basic technique with their blades. Then Aragorn came over to me and handed me a sword.

I hesitated for a moment before I took hold of cold metal of the hilt. The sword felt so odd in my hand, seemed cumbersome, it seemed cold and angry as I held it. I could see Legolas watching me as I handled the sword; he shook his head briefly as though he were disagreeing with something, though his face remained impassive. Aragorn led me through a set of stances, he showed me how to handle the sword and then he stepped back to let me go through the movements on my own. Though I was able to lift the sword and swing it around…the only way that I would ever be able to kill something with the sword would be if they helpfully ran forward and skewered themselves on it; all of the hobbits picked up on and were better at wielding a blade than I was. I wasn't all that much better with a dagger either.

Legolas stepped forward and handed me a bow and a few arrows which he had apparently made himself on our journey, Aragorn took the sword and dagger back, and went to help Boromir with the hobbits. The bow felt different in my hand than the sword and dagger had, felt warm and right somehow, as though my hands had been waiting to hold a bow, to feel the smooth and sturdy wood in my hand, to draw the string back before releasing an arrow. Though holding the bow felt right, it seemed that my arrow would not find its target unless said target jumped in front of it. Legolas was a very patient teacher and by the time the next mid-day rest was over, I could hit the target nearly every time…though nowhere near the center.

I am not sure how many days have passed since we left Rivendell; it seems to have been ages ago since we last saw Imladris. We have not left the grasslands and though we have walked all day every day, the mountains seem unreachable, even though they appear marginally closer at the end of each day. Perhaps they are merely an illusion, or maybe we are wandering in circles without realizing it. Every time that we stop, Aragorn and Boromir take turns teaching the hobbits more in the way of the sword, and they are much improving. Legolas teaches me more with the bow every time we stop—though I am able to hit nearer the center of a target, I am still not hitting where I should. It is Boromir's turn to help the hobbits. Merry and Pippin are mock fighting with him, Aragorn is eating an apple and occasionally giving advice to one or other of the hobbits, Legolas is gazing outwards in every direction, Gandalf is speaking with Gimli, and Sam and Frodo are watching their kinsmen. When Pippin is hit in the hand with Boromir's sword, I sucked in a breath, worried that Pippin may be gravely injured. Boromir apologizes immediately, but to no avail, for both Merry and Pippin leapt on him with a cry of "For the Shire" and began attacking him. Aragorn got to his feet, walked over there to separate them, and had his feet pulled out from under him; his head hit the rock with a crack. I jumped up and hurried over to him, kneeling at his side I touched his arm and looked at the stone under his head to see if he was bleeding. If I was going to protect him, in the future I would need to be far more attentive to what was going on. Aragorn sat up with a groan; he rubbed that back of his head and assured me that he was fine; there was a sudden flurry of activity, for Legolas had spotted something, which Gimli had thought was simply a wisp of cloud.

"Crebain from Dunland."

"Hide!" yelled Aragorn.

While I had no idea what this meant, apparently some of the others did, for at Aragorn's shout they became worried and there was a flurry of activity to shove things out of sight. All of us ducked under rocks or behind brush, hoping that our hiding place was sufficient for these "Crebain". What they are were rather large crows, at least a hundred of them flew past our hiding place, cawing madly as they flew. They were gone as just as swiftly as they appeared. All of us slowly crept out of the rocks and out from under the brush, Gandalf seemed almost angry as he spoke.

"Spies of Saruman. The passage south is being watched. We must take the pass of Caradhras."

He looked over towards the mountains, at one particularly tall and foreboding looking mountain. Though the Crebain had frightened me, I am not sure that this mountain pass will be safer than the southern passage. All of us gather our things in haste, remove all traces that we were there, and then start once again towards the mountains. This time with the knowledge that we would be climbing the tall, dark mountain that reached the clouds.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	17. The mountain with a will of its own

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

17.

We did not stop that night until we had reached the foot of the mountains, it was decided that we would begin the long arduous climb in the morning. Gimli managed to make a fire using the dried grasses and some brush which he had gathered, everyone was too tired to talk much and their meal was eaten in silence. Afterwards, I sat a little ways away from the others and carefully removed my boots. Taking a deep breath, I looked at my feet and let out a sigh of relief, for my feet were not nearly as blistered as I thought. I washed my feet as carefully as I could and wrapped them in some leaves from a certain tree which I knew would help them heal, though I do not know how fast they work. As I work on wrapping my feet, there is a sound of someone gasping behind me, my hands freeze on the leaves and I quickly move my feet so that they are hidden under my skirt. I looked down at my lap, unsure what to do, unsure if what I had been doing was alright, and worried that it wasn't.

Whoever it was, crouched down in front of me, large hands took hold of mine and spoke with a gentle voice.

"Let me see your feet, Raven. It is important that your feet are seen to before they get worse."

Without looking up, I slowly bring my feet out from under my skirt to show the person I now know to be Boromir. His hands are large, strong, and surprisingly gentle as he takes hold of my feet, undoes the leaves and looks at them for a moment before reaching into his pocket and taking out a vial. Upon opening it he smears some of the contents onto the blisters and then returns it to his pocket, yet he doesn't let go of my ankles. He seems to be debating about something and I begin to get worried, for I know not what it is that he will do if he insists on keeping hold of me. I slowly lift my head and look at him, he is watching me…staring at me, with an odd look in his eyes, one that I have only ever seen in the eyes of Him. That strange look of hunger, of longing; that look scares me, and I wish he would let go of me.

My ankles are suddenly released, yet an instant later, strong arms go around my waist and under my legs, I hold as still as I can as Boromir lifts me off the ground and into his arms. Boromir carries me back to the others and sets me down on my bedroll, he stares at me for a moment longer before he turns and goes to his own bedroll. Questions are asked of him, yet he doesn't answer, he simply lies down and turns away from them, and the others refrain from asking him anything more. I sit as still as possible and hoping not to be noticed. However, no amount of hoping can make me vanish and Aragorn come over and sits in front of me. He watches me for a moment before he speaks with a quiet voice, and I must answer him.

"What were you doing, Raven? Are you alright?"

I nod my head in answer to the last part, I have to swallow before I can attempt to speak and I know that I must, for he has told me that I can and should speak.

"I was washing my feet; Boromir came over and put a kind of salve on them so they would heal. I am sorry…I was trying not to draw attention to myself, sorry."

I didn't look up at him, didn't move as he gently took my feet and looked at them. Aragorn sighed before releasing my feet and asking gently.

"Raven, I am glad that you were attempting to take care of this yourself, yet you need to let me know when something like this happens. If your feet had gone on untreated, they could have become infected and you would not be able to walk. Please let someone know next time."

My head nods, seemingly of its own accord; I do not speak any more and Aragorn leaves to speak to Gandalf. I lie down and look up at the stars, trying to ignore the worry and fear which had found a place inside me at the look Boromir had given me. Sleep claims me as the stars dance and laugh in the night sky.

The mountain is cold; frigid winds push and pull at us, trying to send us tumbling back down the mountain. We have been walking through snow since early this morning and it keeps getting deeper the higher up we go; clouds obscure the top of the mountain and Gandalf warns us that there is a mighty blizzard up ahead. I was wary of Boromir all morning, though I was not the only one. For early on in the climb, Frodo had tripped and tumbled backwards, losing the ring in the process. Boromir had seen it and picked it up, Aragorn told him to give the ring to Frodo, and for a moment it looked as though Boromir would refuse. Then the moment passed and he returned it to the hobbit. Aragorn had had his hand on the hilt of his sword and he did not remove it until Boromir had turned and continued up the mountain. Though the moment had long since passed, there was an underlying tension which did not seem to want to dissipate.

There was indeed a blizzard on the mountain, all save Legolas struggled through the snow—he somehow managed to walk on top of it. The hobbits were not tall enough to walk through the snow without the rest of us worrying that they would inadvertently wander off the cliff on the side of the mountain, therefore Aragorn and Boromir were carrying them through the snow. It is so cold up here that I feared we would all freeze to death before we could make it to the other side of the mountain. Legolas was walking up by Gandalf—walking above the snow and not even seeming bothered by the cold, when the sound of a faraway voice reached our ears. Gandalf listened for a moment then shouted "SARUMAN!". Cracking sounds ripped through the air, it sounded as though the very stones were tearing themselves apart. Apparently they had, for the next moment large boulders fell towards us from somewhere higher on the mountain. All of us pressed close to the mountain side, narrowly avoiding getting killed by the falling boulders, now everyone was scared as well as frozen.

"Gandalf, we must turn back!" Aragorn's words could barely be heard over the storm and the pounding of our hearts.

Though Aragorn had been difficult to hear, Gandalf's shouted "NO!" was heard clearly.

The voice on the wind sent shivers down my spine, shivers that had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the wave of fear which had enveloped me from the moment that the voice could be heard. I know not who this "Saruman" is, and I hope that I never meet him. For, if his voice can instill such fear in me…I dread to think what the man himself could do. Gandalf started shouting words in a language that I did not understand, perhaps they were some spell which he was using to try and stop whatever the words from the unseen man were doing. Suddenly the voice changed, became more intense and laced with power. That voice brought snow down the mountain and onto the ledge which we walked upon, burying us completely in snow and ice.

It seemed warmer under the snow, there was no more wind and I wanted to stay there for as long as I could. Yet I knew that this was a foolish thing to want, I had to get out of the snow, I had to see if Aragorn was alright. The instant my head broke through the snow and back into the wind and storm, I noticed that Boromir was shouting something, yet even then it was hard to hear him over the winds which whipped through the air and threatened to blow us off the mountain.

"…must turn back! …Gap of Rohan…road to my city."

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard." Aragorn's voice was easier to hear, since he was closer than Boromir; when Gimli spoke I was glad that he was nearby or I would have missed what he said.

"We cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it. Let us go through the mines of Moria."

These words from Gimli seemed to make Gandalf afraid. For a moment he did not answer, when he did he spoke clearly so all of us could hear him.

"Let the ring-bearer decide." Frodo looked around at his fellow hobbits, then at the others, seemingly torn about which path to take. He was spared answering for only a moment when Boromir spoke to Gandalf.

"We cannot stay here. This will be the death of the hobbits."

They did indeed look frozen, or nearly so. I noticed that he glanced at me when he spoke, though he said nothing else. Frodo seemed to reach a decision when he heard Boromir's words, for he spoke with a firmness which was rarely seen in him.

"We will go through the mines."

"So be it." Was all that Gandalf said before turning around and leading the way back down the mountain.

The journey down to the foot of the mountain seemed to take far shorter a time than going up had been. It was far easier than going up a mountain that did not seem to want us on it, in fact it almost felt as though the mountain was assisting us in leaving as swiftly as possible. By the time that night had fallen, we had reached a small gap between mountains; a still lake took up most of the ground leaving only a narrow walkway along the smooth face of one mountain. Gandalf walked along the wall, his hand brushing away dirt until a glowing doorway was revealed by the moonlight. The doors were amazing, they glowed with an ethereal light and the runes carved into them looked as though they held more than simply the key to open the door. We had made it to the mines of Moria…now we only had to get inside.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	18. Moria is opened

**I was originally going to have all of Moria in one chapter, however this seemed like a good place to stop and prepare for the action in the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

18.

The doors to the mine did not seem to want to open. When we had first arrived at the doors, Gandalf had translated the runes for those who could not read dwarvish.

"It reads: the doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter."

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry wondered, aloud.

"Well it's quite simple, if you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open."

Gandalf had put his staff to the door and said something in the language which I think he uses to work great magic. Nothing happened. He raised his arms and spoke different words this time, the doors still refused to open. Pippin turned to Legolas and stated the obvious.

"Nothing's happening."

Gandalf walked up to the doors and pushed against them, thinking that perhaps they were merely stuck. He pushed a couple times before being interrupted by non-other than the particularly curious hobbit: Peregrine Took.

"What are you going to do then?"

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrine Took. And if that does not shatter them, than I will at least have a little peace from foolish questions!" Gandalf's voice rose the more he spoke to Pippin, then he took a deep breath and said more calmly. "I am trying to find the opening words."

Gandalf had been chanting and speaking at them long enough for the moon to rise high in the sky, and they still remained closed. Everyone took advantage of the stillness, to relax and wait for the doors to be opened—well everyone except for Aragorn, Legolas, and of course Gandalf. Merry and Pippin were seeing who could throw a rock the farthest into the abnormally still lake; so far Merry was winning. Pippin was about ready to throw another tock into the lake, when his arm was grabbed by Aragorn who then whispered "Do not disturb the water." The two hobbits turned away from the water just as the stone doors opened, revealing the entrance to Moria.

The mood was lightened considerably as we entered the mines and Gimli began to speak about the food, warmth, drink, and hospitality which he was sure awaited us once we got inside. It was not to be, for almost the instant that we set foot inside the mines; it became apparent that there were no living dwarves here. There were however, hundreds of skeletons strewn across the floor, arrows and broken blades surrounding them to tell of the fierce battle which took place and took their lives. Boromir looked around and spoke quietly, sounding a little shaken by his surroundings.

"This is no mine, this is a tomb."

Gimli cried out in anguish to see his kinsmen dead and strewn across what had once been their home. Legolas picked up an arrow from the body of a dwarf and dropped it as though it had burned him, instantly his bow was out and he uttered one word which sent fear into our hearts.

"Goblins."

Aragorn and Boromir drew their swords, the hobbits took that as a signal to do the same, and I drew my bow…not sure what to aim at as there was nothing moving. Boromir glanced at Aragorn and voiced his opinion about the choice to come here.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here. Now get out of here, GET OUT!"

We backed out of the mine, however we did not make it far before a shout from Sam drew the attention of everyone.

"Strider!"

Aragorn turned and ran forward the instant that he noticed that something had grabbed Frodo by the ankle and was dragging him to the lake. Sam was hacking at the rubbery arm-like thing, finally managing to cut through it only to see several more launch out of the water towards them. One picked up Frodo and held him high in the air, holding him above the water as a great and monstrous head rose from the water, ready to swallow the flailing hobbit whole. Legolas drew his bow and fired at the creature, his movements so fast that they appeared to be little more than a blur. I too drew my bow, yet I hesitated, I had never fired at something living before and my aim was not the best. Even so, I fired at the creature, my arrow only glancing across its thick skull, barely leaving a scratch; whereas Legolas's arrow was stuck in the creature's eye. Aragorn and Boromir were hacking and slicing away at the many arm-like tentacles, cutting them down on their way to reach Frodo before he was devoured. Aragorn finally managed to reach the limb holding Frodo in the air and with one swipe of his sword he cut through it, sending Frodo crashing down to land in the waiting arms of Boromir.

Gandalf's cry of "Into the mines!" Wasn't needed, for we all ran back into the shelter of the mountain. The creature brought the doors down behind us, trapping us inside the mine with no way out except for the way ahead. Gandalf lit a crystal and placed it in the top of his staff, saying rather ominously as he did so.

"We have but one choice; we must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world."

We all moved close together, walking in a tight line through the mines and wondering just how long this journey through such a place would last. I hoped that we would not meet any of these things which were fouler than orcs, and I was glad that whatever that thing in the lake had been, could not get to us in the mines.

* * *

All sense of time was lost as we traveled through the mines. Gandalf tried to let us stop and rest at regular intervals, yet even then it seemed that all of us were more tired than normal. It was impossible to know if the sun was even up, as there was no sun, nor anyway for light to get through into the mines from the sky above. We traveled in complete darkness, save for the small sphere of light which was given off by the crystal in Gandalf's staff. There were thousands of skeletons along the path that we walked through the mines, not all of them were dwarves and that at least seemed to give Gimli some satisfaction.

It was impossible to know how long we had been traveling through Moria, when we came upon a chamber with several off shooting passages. Gandalf came to a stop, looked around and said quietly.

"I have no memory of this place."

This statement was worrisome, for if Gandalf did not know which way to go then how would we find the way out? All of us spread out around the wall and path, taking advantage of the rest stop and waiting for the moment when Gandalf would remember the way. I sat near the edge of the path, looking down into the depths of the earth, trying to imagine dwarves down there mining gold, gems, and an odd substance called mithril. As I was gazing down into the depths of the earth, Boromir appeared beside me, he stood there a moment before speaking.

"Would you accompany me, for a brief look down one of the tunnels?"

I nod and get to my feet, following him as he head down a tunnel and around a bend until we are out of sight of the others. I couldn't see him very well, the light did not reach this far into the tunnel and the dark walls seemed to absorb any light that touched them, even so there was enough light to make out some things. Boromir did not speak for several minutes, when he finally did it was with forced calm.

"I only have one thing to ask you Raven. Would you ever abandon someone who needed you?"

After a moment's thought I shook my head before answering quietly.

"No." I turned my head to look over my shoulder, a little concerned with how far away the others were.

My wrist was abruptly caught in an iron grip and I was pulled a little farther from the others and into the surrounding darkness of the tunnel. Boromir spun me around to face him; I opened my mouth to inquire what was going on, only to have to have the words die in my throat, as his mouth covered mine. His mouth moved on mine, crushing my lips under his; I didn't want this, I wanted to get away, I wanted him to stop.

My free hand found its way to his chest, I tried to push him away from me, only to have my hand caught and placed in the hand that already held my other one, his hand gripping both of mine tightly in a hold that would not be possible for me to break. Boromir pulled me closer, wrapping his free arm around my waist and pressing his body into mine; his mouth moved furiously—biting at my lips and trying to mold his mouth to mine. His fingers at my waist dug into my skin. He began moving backwards, pressing me against the cold, rough stone wall. I couldn't move, terror gripped me and would not let go, I was trembling as he pressed harder against me. His fingers pressed harder into my side, his hand moved to my stomach, his nails raked over my skin; I had to get away from him. I struggled for a moment before I was able to get my head back far enough to slam it forward into his. Boromir's mouth left mine, his hand released its tight grip on my wrists, and he looked at me with a cold fury that made him unrecognizable.

I wasn't aware of his hand rising, I did not see him strike me, I was only abruptly aware that I was on the ground and my face felt as though it were on fire.

"Stay down there where you belong, wench. You said that you wouldn't abandon someone who needs you, and **_I _**need you. Sooner or later I **will** get what I want." Boromir's voice was full of venom when he spoke. He spat on me before going back through the tunnel to join the others.

I remained on the floor. Feeling tears fall down my face and trying not to let my sudden fear of Boromir consume me. I don't want to go back to the others, yet neither do I want to remain alone in this tunnel. Boromir is out there, but so are the others. As long as I stay away from him than I should be alright…I need to stay by Aragorn as I should have from the beginning. I made a promise to him and I will keep it, I will protect and serve him, no matter the cost.

Aragorn's gaze finds me the moment that I enter the room where the rest of the Fellowship is, I keep my head down and stay in the shadows, not wanting to be noticed, yet knowing that is a futile hope. Aragorn stands and is about to step towards me—concern evident in his eyes—when Gandalf rises from the place he has been sitting, gestures to the tunnel at the far end, and speaks.

"Ah. It's that way."

"He's remembered!" Merry exclaimed happily.

"No, but the air smells less foul down here. When in doubt Master Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

We all followed Gandalf into the tunnel, I stayed at the back, not wanting to draw attention to myself and glad that Aragorn had decided to move forward instead of questioning me right then. I knew he would at some point, yet I wanted to put it off for as long as I could. He kept glancing back at me as we followed Gandalf deeper into the mines; I knew he was worried and that he would speak to me soon. For now I stayed in the back and followed Gandalf, my ears picking up the sound of footsteps behind us; we were being followed.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	19. Shadow and flame

**Author's note: I should probably mention that Boromir is only acting the way that he is because of the ring and the way that it messes with his thoughts. Magnifying thoughts he may not have realized that he had and making them powerful enough that he acts on them. I actually like Boromir normally, it is just that for the purpose of this story, this is the way that his character needed to act. I hope that it is alright. Thank you for reading.**

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

19.

We followed Gandalf deeper into the mines, wondering if perhaps he was lost after all—shouldn't we be going up instead of down and then across? None of us knew how much time had passed before we reached a room far larger than that of any which we had previously entered. Gandalf raised his staff and spoke with a quiet voice.

"Let us risk a little more light."

The crystal in his staff glowed brighter, illuminating the vast room which we found ourselves in. The immense size of the room was made known to us, for the light did not touch any of the walls, nor the ceiling. Yet what the light did show us was breathtaking: hundreds of carved columns stretched from floor to ceiling, each appearing of a uniformed design until you took a closer look and saw that each had entirely different details from any of the other columns.

"Dwarrowdelf, city of the dwarves." Gandalf muttered, as though to himself.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Gimli gave a cry and ran between some columns and into an adjoining room.

"Gimli!" Gandalf, tried to call him back, but the dwarf did not listen.

He continued to run through the doors, over the weapons and bodies strewn across the ground, stopping at a stone slab which rested in the precise middle of the room. A wide beam of sunlight shown over the block of stone, it was the first sunlight we had seen in what felt like weeks, and it illuminated the entire room. I could not tear my eyes from the light, it seemed to drive away the coldness of the mines and give us hope again. Hope that there was still a world out there and that we could make it out.

Gimli knelt at the foot of the slab, let out a sob and bowed his head as though a great sorrow had overcome him. The rest of the Fellowship approached the stone as Gimli began to sob; it was then that I realized that the stone slab was a tomb. Gandalf moved to the head of the tomb and read the words engraved into the stone.

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria. He is dead then." He removed his hat and Gimli began to sob in earnest over the death of his cousin. "It is as I feared."

Gandalf turned to the base of the tomb and noticed a dwarf skeleton which clutched an old and decaying book to his chest. Gandalf handed his staff and hat to Pippin before bending down and prying the book from the dead dwarves' hands. Pages fell out as the book was lifted, more pages crumbled into dust when Gandalf opened it and blew on them. There were whispers from Legolas, wanting us to move on and not linger in such a place, yet no one moved. We all watched Gandalf as he turned page after page in the crumbling book, finally stopping on the second to last page with writing, he began to read aloud.

"They have taken the bridge, and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark, we cannot get out. They are coming." As he finished reading, he looked up at us, worry etched into the lines of his face.

As Gandalf had spoken, Boromir had placed his hand on Gimli in an effort to offer comfort to him. Merry, Frodo, and Sam had drawn closer together and were looking around uneasily, while Pippin had taken several steps backwards to a well which stood in the corner of the room. He had turned and looked at a skeleton which was perched precariously on the edge of the well, and as the last words left Gandalf's mouth; Pippin had reached out and touched an arrow protruding from its chest. The skeleton's head fell off and tumbled down the well, bumping and clanging against the walls as it went. Pippin spun around—as did Gandalf to look at the hobbit incredulously, and the rest of the skeleton fell down the well, as did the bucket and chain which it had been sitting on. They made loud clanging noises as they fell, continuing to make noise until they finally came to rest at the very bottom of the mine.

There was a tense silence following the last echo of the skeleton's fall. Gandalf was the first one to speak, and he did so as he slammed the book shut.

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity." Gandalf snatched his staff and hat back from the hobbit, seemingly unaware of how hurt Pippin was by those words.

I saw the hurt that was in Pippin's eyes. Knew how it must have hurt to have someone who you looked up to, say such a thing to you. Before anything could be said or done there was a sound, a sound of drums in the deep. They came from under us, from around us, up through the well and seemingly through the very walls. Boromir want to the door and was nearly hit by an arrow as he looked out into the hall. He pulled back and shut the door, leaning against it as he said.

"They have a cave troll."

I had no idea what that was, though I seemed to be the only one, for the others became either afraid or worried. Aragorn and Boromir barred the door with whatever weapons were lying around, knowing that it would not do much in deterring the goblins from getting through, yet it may give us a little time. Aragorn, Legolas, and I stood by the tomb our bows out and an arrow strung, waiting for an opportunity to shoot at the oncoming horde of creatures coming to kill us. The four hobbits stood together behind Gandalf, their swords out—they were terrified but ready to fight nonetheless, Gimli stood atop his cousin's tomb, ready to slaughter any goblin that dared to come his way.

The goblins hammered and hacked at the doors, breaking through the old and rotted wood in only a few swings. Legolas was the first to fire through the holes which they had made in the door, killing his target and firing another arrow almost instantly. Aragorn and I were not far behind, firing arrows through the gaps in the doors and killing as many of the goblins as we could. Then the doors were shattered. Splinters flew everywhere, goblins piled in through the gap, many sliced down by Boromir and Aragorn's swords. I let loose arrow after arrow, trying to take down as many goblins as I could. Gandalf and then the hobbits charged into the fray, yelling and swinging their swords; killing goblins as they poured into the room. Gimli's axes were twin blurs as, he swung at goblins who made it to the tomb, he refused to let any goblin near the final resting place of his cousin. I turned and shot a goblin who was about to slash into Aragorn's side, though he turned, it would have been a second too late to avoid getting sliced into by the goblin. He nodded in thanks to me before hacking down more goblins as they poured into the room, as though they were ants.

The flow of goblins seemed to be coming to a stop. I looked over at the hobbits to see them dispatch a few more goblins, and then something large, vicious, and very ugly burst through the gap where the doors had been; this must be the cave troll. Everyone stopped for a moment and stared up at this creature, then Sam stepped forward—drawing the troll's attention, and darted between its legs just as the mace that it held, came crashing down where the hobbit had stood mere seconds before.

The troll turned around and raised its foot to step on Sam and squash him into the floor. Aragorn and Boromir grabbed the chain attached to the troll and pulled hard, dragging it backwards and giving Sam a chance to scramble away. The troll swung the chain, sending Boromir flying across the room to land on some rubble; a goblin moved towards him and was about to stab him when a blade—thrown by Aragorn, sprouted from its chest. Gimli threw an axe at the troll, hitting it in the chest and making it madder than before. The troll swung its club at the dwarf, who jumped aside just in time. The club shattered the tomb of Balin instead of Gimli. Legolas and I were busy keeping as many goblins at bay as we could, my poor aim aided by the fact that there were so many goblins that I was bound to hit one of them.

Legolas was up on a ledge, shooting arrows down into the fray, he shot two at once into the troll as it tried to take a swing at Gimli. The troll stumbled backwards, spotted the elf, and tried to hit him by using its chain as a whip. The troll swung its chain at the elf, who dodged it relatively easily, the chain struck the surrounding stone and sent bits of it flying out across the room. Legolas moved next to a pillar and when the chain was thrown, it wrapped around the pillar and became stuck. Legolas ran up the chain and onto the back of the troll, he stood on the troll's shoulders, strung two arrows and fired at the base of the troll's skull. They shattered on impact. The hide on the back of the troll was too tough to allow it to be pierced by arrows; Legolas jumped down from the troll. The troll pulled at the chain holding it to the pillar, breaking the chain and letting the troll loose again; its attention caught by the three hobbits in the corner.

It swung its club towards them, creating a hole in the floor when they jumped aside to avoid being squished. I am not sure what happened next, for more goblins were pouring in through the doorway. I had to keep picking up arrows from the ground and from the bodies of goblins around me, there seemed to be no end to the goblins…they just kept coming.

I could see Aragorn fighting through goblins; none of their blades touched him, for such was his skill with the sword. I saw him fighting his way over to the troll, saw him pick up a spear and shove it into the troll's stomach. Then the troll's arm hit Aragorn and sent him flying across the room, he hit a wall and slumped down to the floor a top a pile of rubble. He lay there unmoving, yet I could not even go to him. I shot a few more goblins who were about to overwhelm Sam, then I backed over to Aragorn's body; silently vowing to protect him for as long as I could…hoping that he wasn't dead. Any goblin that dared come near him soon had an arrow sticking out of him; I didn't notice anything else around me until Merry was thrown to the ground in front of me. I looked around to find the others and noticed that Pippin was sitting atop the troll, and Legolas had his bow out and aimed at the troll, the moment that Pippin stabbed into the troll's shoulders, Legolas let the arrow fly. It went straight into the troll's open mouth and out the top of its head. Pippin fell off the troll as the troll toppled over to the ground—the troll was dead and the last of the goblins was killed and Aragorn still had not moved.

Everyone else had hurried over to where Frodo had last been seen; Aragorn stirred. He looked up at me, nodded in thanks and moved over to the form of Frodo. Frodo who had a spear sticking out from under his body. Aragorn carefully rolled the hobbit over onto his back; Frodo's eyes opened and he gasped for air. Everyone stared at Frodo in amazement and disbelief, Aragorn was the first to speak into the astonished silence.

"That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

Gandalf moved forward and spoke as though he had figured something out. "I think that there is more to this hobbit than meets the eye."

Frodo unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt and exposed a shirt underneath which could only have been the one made of Mithril which Bilbo had had in his possession. I was so overcome with joy to see Frodo alive and unharmed, that I forgot to remain in the shadows and as out of sight as possible. My feet carried me forward to Frodo; I dropped to my knees and wrapped my arms tightly around him, happy that he was alive.

It was in this moment—when the fighting was over and everyone was relieved that Frodo was alive, that first Aragorn and then Legolas noticed the bruises on my face and wrists. Both of them knew that all my previous bruises had healed, and I had not had them when we had entered the mines. A hand gripped my arm and gently pulled me away from Frodo.

Aragorn drew me away from the rubble and more into the light streaming from the window high in the walls of the room; he brushed my hair away from my face and moved my head slightly to let him better see my face. Aragorn gently moved a thumb over my face, I tried not to let pain show when he touched my face, yet I must not have been successful, for he became sad as well as angry. I saw Legolas watching close by, the rest of the Fellowship were watching as well—confusion, anger, and worry evident on many of their faces. However, it was one face in particular that I sought out, and that face showed worry, regret, and longing. I wasn't aware that I was trembling until a hand on my shoulder brought my attention back to the man in front of me; his frown deepened when he noticed this, his mouth opened to say something, only to be stopped when Legolas gently took my arm and held up my wrist. Aragorn took my hand, and inspected my wrist, anger turning into something more dangerous, something more akin to fury. His eyes were cold and hard, as he looked at the bruises on my face and wrists—Legolas too seemed far angrier than I thought that either of them would be. Aragorn never got a chance to say anything, for the sound of hundreds more goblins approaching, reached us and Gandalf spoke hurriedly.

"Onwards to Khazad-dum." Then he turned and ran from the room.

The hobbits and the rest of the Fellowship following close behind; Aragorn looked at me—telling me that once we were out, he would ask about the bruises, then he grabbed my hand and ran after Gandalf. Onwards we ran, moving as fast as we could through Dwarrowdelf; with goblins coming up through cracks in the stone, down from the ceiling, crawling over the columns, and running towards us from the darkness. We were soon surrounded by them, thousands of goblins all wanting to kill the intruders to their mines. There would be no escape from this army of goblins, there were too many and we were sure to fall.

There was a deep groaning and grinding coming from somewhere further in the mines. There was light emerging from a place beyond the columns, low rumbling filled the room and the goblins began to flee. Within seconds, every last goblin had disappeared; while this seemed to be a great stroke of luck, Gandalf was bent over and leaning on his staff. Boromir turned to Gandalf, kept his eyes on the fiery glow, and asked.

"What is this new devilry?"

Gandalf suddenly looked very old; he closed his eyes and leaned more heavily on his staff. Very slowly he looked up and answered at the same time that more grinding could be heard from where the fire light was coming from.

"A Balrog, a demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you. RUN!" He took off between the columns, running faster than one would think him capable of.

None of us needed further incentive, we all followed Gandalf as fast as we could. Running from whatever creature a Balrog was, and hopefully running to safety. We ran on through rooms and chambers, running so quickly that when Boromir ran down some stairs he almost didn't stop himself in time to avoid falling off and into nothingness. He still would have fallen had Legolas not caught him and pulled him backwards to safety, Gandalf pointed us to a side stair and we ran down it without hesitation. Gandalf stopped Aragorn and spoke to him as the rest of us ran by.

We ran down innumerable stairs, finally able to see the end of them up ahead, the last set of stairs had a gap in them where rock had fallen from the ceiling and destroyed several feet of staircase. Upon reaching them, Legolas jumped over first and then motioned for Gandalf to jump; Legolas caught him when he jumped. Goblins began shooting at us while we were exposed on the stairs; Legolas fired back at them and killed all he could so that the rest of us could cross in relative safety. Boromir grabbed Merry and Pippin in his arms and jumped across the gap in the stairs, as he jumped more of the stairs crumbled away and fell into the depths of the earth. Aragorn tossed Sam over and he was caught by Boromir, I took a deep breath and leapt across to be caught by Boromir. He set me down, yet his hand lingered at my waist for a while longer.

Aragorn reached out to help Gimli over the gap, but he was waved off with a growl from the dwarf.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf." He jumped across and would have fallen down into the abyss had Legolas not grabbed him by his beard, earning a cry of "Not the beard!" from the dwarf, and pulled him up onto the stairs.

There was a cracking sound and more of the stair which Aragorn and Frodo were on, began to crumble away. They were left with an impossible gap to leap. From behind them there came a roar, firelight could be seen growing brighter in the tunnel to their backs…the Balrog was coming. A giant rock fell from somewhere up above and fell upon the stairs behind them, leaving where they stood a lone pillar which cracked and began to slide off its foundation. Aragorn told Frodo to lean forward and they rode the broken stairs forward to collide with the other end where the rest of the Fellowship stood. They were caught by Legolas and Boromir, just as the stairs which they had been standing on, fell away and into the darkness below.

There was no time to rest, we ran down the rest of the stairs and through a hall that was wreathed in flame, Gandalf's instruction to "Fly" was not needed, for we were all running as swiftly as possible. Gandalf paused and looked back into the flames to see a creature leap through the flames; it was huge, black, and fiery with horns coming from its head down to either side of its face—it truly appeared to be a fire demon, just as Gandalf had said; the sight of such a creature sent shivers down my spine, I thought that I could feel the evil coming off of the Balrog and it frightened me.

It roared at Gandalf, who turned and fled with the rest of us through an archway and across another bridge. We ran to the other side of the bridge and looked back to see that Gandalf was standing alone in the middle of the bridge, facing the Balrog as it stepped onto the bridge. He spoke to the Balrog, his voice deep and suffused with power.

"You cannot pass!"

"Gandalf!" screamed Frodo.

The Balrog stretched to its full height, fire and shadow surrounding it and making it more intimidating than it already was.

"I am a servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Arnor." Gandalf raised his staff and sword, light creating a sort of shield around him as he continued to speak. "The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!" The Balrog raised its sword of flame and brought it down on the shield which surrounded Gandalf, the shield vanished and the Balrog staggered backwards.

Aragorn moved forward as though to go to Gandalf's aid, when the wizard spoke again.

"Go back to the shadow." The Balrog stepped forward onto the bridge, fire and shadow flowing outward from its foot as it came down upon the bridge; it brought out a long and fiery whip which it cracked in the air beside Gandalf.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Gandalf brought his staff and sword together and slammed the end of his staff down onto the bridge, a shockwave going out from it and into the surrounding darkness. The Balrog took another step forward, the bridge crumbled away under its feet and it fell down into the darkness.

Gandalf watched it fall for a moment before he turned and began to walk towards us, he never made it. For, the Balrog's whip lashed out and grabbed the wizard around his ankle, pulling him backwards and off the bridge; Gandalf clung to the edge of the bridge and said one last thing before falling into the abyss.

"Fly, you fools."

"NO!" cried Frodo, he tried to run to back onto the bridge, Boromir pulled him back and carried him up the stairs that lead from the mines. Aragorn stood there, staring in shock at the spot where Gandalf had fallen; I had to tug on his arm to get him to move forward. We had to keep moving, the goblins were firing arrows at us and if we stayed then we would be killed; Aragorn turned and began to run up the stairs after the others.

We reached the top of the stairs and emerged out into the sunlight; light that seemed to have lost its warmth. It was a cold, harsh light which shown upon us after we emerged from the mines; none of us could believe that Gandalf had fallen, that he would no longer be there to lead us. He had been a friend, a guide, a leader to us all. Gandalf had spoken to me, had shown me some of the hidden beauty in Rivendell; he had sat with me as I watched and listened to my surroundings, and he had shown me the joy of listening to stories. How could he be gone, what would we do without him?

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	20. No time for grief

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

20.

**Aragorn's POV:**

Gandalf could not really be dead, not he who had been through so much more than mere mortals could endure. Yet, there was no denying that he had fallen into the depths of the earth; no one, not even Gandalf the Grey could have survived that…even without the Balrog to deal with. Gandalf was dead, I had to accept that. I could not even grieve for my friend, we had to get moving before the goblins came out of the mines at nightfall; we had to get to the safety of Lothlorien. Perhaps there, we could all have a moment of peace in which to grieve our fallen comrade, and friend.

I cleaned my sword with the edge of my cloak, looked around at the rest of the members of the Fellowship—first at Legolas the elf who had never seen death and never felt grief, Gimli the dwarf fighting to get back into the mines and seek vengeance, each of the hobbits trying to console one another as they cried their anguish, Boromir who was holding Gimli back while trying to control himself as well, then at Raven. Raven the girl who had sworn to follow me, Raven the girl who had managed to save my life and then guard me while I was unconscious, Raven the girl thought that she was nothing; Raven knelt on the ground, her head in her hands and tears falling from between her fingers.

Looking at her reminded me that there was something that needed to be asked, Legolas had shown me the bruises on her wrists—the bruises that were shaped like fingerprints, and I had seen the one on her face. She had not had those bruises when we had entered the mines, nor were they from the battle with the goblins. I had a pretty good idea of who may be responsible for the bruises—he had been the only one with her the one time that she had not been in mine or Legolas' sight, yet I would not confront him without proof.

I walked over to her, knelt at her side, and put my arms around her. Surprisingly, she leaned into me attempting to calm herself, even though she was not ready to do so; I let her cry for a few more moments, we could spare a few moments. One of the things that most bothered me about Raven was that she made almost no sound, even after she had been told that she could; perhaps she was afraid, or perhaps silence was so ingrained into her that she couldn't help it at this point. Even when crying, she was silent.

I gently pulled her away from me in order to look at her; I brushed her hair from her face and gently touched the dark bruise on her face. I forced myself to speak as calmly and gently as I could, I don't want her to think I am angry with her.

"Raven, how did you get these bruises? I know they are not from the goblins, I know you did not have them when we got to Moria. What happened?"

She didn't look away from me, her eyes filled with fresh tears and she began to tremble under my hand. Whatever had happened had greatly frightened her; perhaps it was too soon to inquire as to what happened, I would leave it alone for now. I would inquire again once we reached Lothlorien, and I would get an answer.

I took her hand and got her to her feet, gave her shoulder a light squeeze and then moved off to get the others up; we had to get moving.

"Legolas, get them up." Legolas looked dazed, yet he moved forward and started to get the hobbits to their feet.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" snapped Boromir.

Though I too wanted to have longer to mourn Gandalf, I knew we had to get moving if we did not want to be surrounded by goblins, or orcs. Boromir looked away, knowing I was right and not particularly happy about that, nor about not having time to mourn.

"By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come Boromir. Legolas. Gimli, get them up." I strode over to Sam and helped him to his feet, "On your feet, Sam. Frodo? Frodo!" The hobbit was not with the others; he was standing far off, looking out over the mountains and letting his tears fall while he stood alone. He turned and looked at me, the grief evident on his face; the death of the wizard was particularly hard on him.

* * *

We traveled down the mountain and surrounding hills, crossing streams, rivers, and rocky plains. Finally reaching a spot near the base of the mountain where the forests of Lothlorien were visible; we would make it there by nightfall and be safe amongst the elves…at least for the night.

We crossed into Lothlorien, the trees letting off feeling of peace and calm. I already felt better being here, though apparently Gimli did not, for he gestured hurriedly to the hobbits and spoke at what he probably thought was a quiet volume.

"Stay close, young hobbits. They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-witch…of terrible power. All who look upon her…fall under her spell. And are never seen again." His words did nothing to reassure the hobbits, Frodo looked around wildly and the other hobbits drew closer together. Gimli seemed oblivious to this and continued speaking.

"Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox." No sooner had he finished speaking than he had arrows pointing at him. Arrows were pointed at all of us, we found ourselves surrounded by the elven guards of Lothlorien.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	21. The trees sing

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

21.

The very trees seemed to emit a strange light, an ethereal singing could be heard from the moment that we entered Lothlorien, and only the knowledge that we had to keep moving, kept me from stopping and listening to the song of the trees. It was something that I could listen to for as long as I lived and never tire of it. I was so busy listening to the trees and the music that I would have walked right into an arrow if Boromir had not grabbed my arm and stopped me from continuing forward. He did not let go of me, even after one of the elves started to speak.

"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark."

Gimli growled at this, yet he could do nothing other than that, for the arrows remained pointed at us. Aragorn stepped forward and began to speak to the elf in the mellifluous tongue which I knew was Elvish; he seemed to be explaining something and trying to convince the elf to let us into their wood. While Aragorn and the elf spoke together; I moved my arm in Boromir's hand, trying to get out of his grip. His hand tightened its hold on my arm and I stopped trying to tug free of him, though I could not stop myself from trembling as his hand squeezed my arm. I looked down at my feet, scared of this man who did not appear to care what any of the others thought, this man who wanted something from me.

The elves must have sensed something, for all of them stiffened and looked around at the Fellowship; thankfully Boromir let go of my arm and I edged away from him. Some of the elves stared at us for a long moment, they seemed confused about something. Then the elf which Aragorn had been talking to, said something to them and their bows were lowered; we were motioned onward and led through the forest of Lothlorien. We were led through the woods, past streams and many different kinds of trees, though they all appeared to glow.

Night had fallen by the time that we reached what could only be described as a city of trees. Staircases wound up the tree trunks from the ground to disappear into the branches, platforms seemed to grow out of the trees and became open homes which the elves lived in. Music floated down from the trees, elves wandered unseen through the branches, and everything seemed to glow a bluish silver. We were led to the base of a particularly large tree, and then followed the elves up the stairs to one of the platforms which was shaped like a giant leaf. The elf who Aragorn had spoken to earlier, now spoke to Legolas in their own tongue, Legolas replied and then the elf spoke to Aragorn; Gimli seemed angered that the elf spoke in his own tongue, for he spoke almost rudely to him.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the elves! Speak words we can all understand!" His words caused the elf to turn slowly towards him and speak with controlled irritation.

"We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the DarkDays."

"And you know what this dwarf says to that?" Gimli then said something in Dwarvish which made Aragon wince. Aragorn grabbed Gimli by the arm and said harshly.

"_That _was not so courteous."

The elf who had spoken then turned and spotted the hobbits, he spoke and this time his words were directed at Frodo.

"You bring great evil with you." He turned again and said "You can go no further." Before he strode off to speak with his fellow elves, Aragorn hurried after him and spoke urgently in elvish.

The rest of us remained where we were, unsure of what we were going to do if we are not allowed to go any further into Lothlorien. We could not go back, for we had yet to complete our quest, however if we could not go forward then where would we go from here?

* * *

The Fellowship sat apart from one another, as Aragorn spoke with the elf. Boromir sat near Frodo and spoke to him, it was apparent that he was attempting to comfort Frodo, though I am not sure how well it worked. I sat near Merry and Pippin, and could not hear what Boromir said to Frodo…though perhaps it was more I simply did not want to hear what was said. I let my eyes close and I listened to the music of the forest, listened to the elves and trees singing, and the sounds of the creatures which lived in this forest alongside the elves.

I am not sure how long we were there, how long I listened to the music of the trees, before Merry touched my shoulder and said softly.

"We are leaving, the elf said to go with him. Where do you think he is leading us?"

I got to my feet and shook my head, I had no idea where the elf could be taking us; I only knew that we were to follow him deeper into the forest. We traveled through the night, taking paths that led through some of the thickest trees which I had ever seen. Sometime late in the afternoon we came to a clear enough place that we could see a stand of trees ahead, trees which stood together so close that they appeared to be a fortress. The elf who we followed stopped and announced.

"Caras Galadhon. The heart of Elvendom on earth. The Realm of Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, Lady of Light."

We did not reach Caras Galadhon until the sun was making its decent from the sky. We traveled narrow paths that twisted through the forest at the base of the tallest and widest trees that I had ever seen; everything felt so old here, old, beautiful, and strong. The roots of the trees were larger than a man, larger than some houses I had seen; they sprouted up from the base of the tree and over the earth, rising several feet and growing to be wider than some normal sized trees. Everything that the elves had built here seemed to have been grown from the tree…it looked as if it actually belonged on the tree instead of something that had been built there.

We were led to one particularly large tree and then followed the elf up the winding stair, out onto one of the branches, and into one of the most magnificent structures that I had ever seen. It was made of white wood that appeared to give off a light of its own, there were archways and all sorts of intricate designs covering what could only have been the home of Lord Celeborn and Galadriel. We entered through an archway and into a type of courtyard floating high above the ground; we stopped before another archway and stood there, waiting for something.

Light shone down and onto us, directing our attention and our gazes upwards to where two people were descending a stairway towards us. Both of the elves were hard to look at for long, they were so ethereally beautiful that even the moon and stars paled in comparison. Lady Galadriel appeared to wear a star above her head, so bright and luminous was the light and beauty which she emitted. For a brief moment I saw a star upon her hand, then I blinked and it was gone…there was nothing there, yet I was sure that I had seen something.

The hobbits stared at them in awe, unable to believe their eyes. Aragorn touched his fingers to his forehead and bowed his head in respect; as they reached the bottom of the stairs, the light emanating from them dimmed and it became more bearable to look at them. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel looked at each member of the Fellowship before Lord Celeborn spoke, and the words which he uttered appeared to cause Aragorn to lose some of the strength which he had shown since leading us from the mines.

"The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are here, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar."

Lady Galadriel looked at Aragorn for a long moment before answering for him.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land." She looked at Legolas and read the devastation in his face, then she spoke again. "He has fallen into shadow. "

Aragorn nodded once, clearly still feeling the terrible grief of the passing of his friend. Legolas spoke then, telling of Gandalf's death.

"He was taken by both Shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria." Legolas seemed to grow angry as he finished speaking, his voice speaking of his desire to go back and exact vengeance on the goblins. The Lady Galadriel spoke to us all, and her words appeared to calm the elf.

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose." She looked at Gimli who had lowered his head while the others had spoken. "Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dum fill your heart…Gimli, son of Gloin. For the world has grown full of peril…and in all lands…love is now mingled with grief." Her gaze turned to Boromir and her eyes appeared to pierce his mind, he could not meet her gaze for long and he looked away from her.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost." Lord Celeborn's words made Aragorn uneasy, not wanting the reason that the quest would fail to be that he led it instead of Gandalf.

"The quest stands on the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail…to the ruin of all." Boromir looked up again at her proclamation, hope and guilt warring on his face. Galadriel was not finished speaking yet though. "Yet hope remains while the Company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest…for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep."

With that rather encouraging and hope filled speech, we were taken to a place where we could sleep for the night before we departed in the morning. Legolas walked through the clearing in which we had made camp, he listened to the songs which the elves sang, sorrow written across his face. He spoke to the rest of us to tell us what they were singing.

"A lament for Gandalf."

Aragorn who had been sharpening his sword, set it down and listened more earnestly to the song of the elves; Merry poked his head out from under the roots of some of the trees, wanting to hear and wishing he could understand what was being said. He turned to Legolas and asked.

"What do they say about him?"

"I have not the heart to tell you. For me, the grief is still too near." The elf had tears in his eyes as he spoke these words, his own grief evident on his face.

I listened to the elves singing for Gandalf for as long as I could before falling asleep under the shelter of roots and trees in the elven forest.

**Aragorn's POV:**

I let Raven sleep instead of questioning her; we all needed the rest before we continued down the river on the morrow. There was one however, that I could question this night and he was sitting a ways away from the rest of us.

I made my way over to him, moving silently past Raven so as not to wake her. When I reached where he was sitting alone from the others I decided to start with something else before questioning him.

"Take some rest, Boromir. These borders are well protected." The words which he spoke surprised me, and made me reconsider what I had been about to say.

"I will find no rest here. I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me "Even now there is still hope left." But I cannot see it. it is long since we had any hope."

This was not what I had expected from him, I had not expected to find a man without hope and so weighed down with guilt. I sat next to him on the tree root, and he spoke again.

"My father is a noble man. But his rule is failing…and our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right, and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored. Have you ever seen it Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. Its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home…by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

He looked over at me and I spoke words which I had not planned on saying to him.

"I have seen the White City…long ago."

Boromir seemed to gain hope and strength from this, and his next words had determination in them.

"One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guard shall take up the call: "The Lords of Gondor have returned."

How could I shatter this moment of hope by demanding answers from him? This man who had lived for so long without hope, to finally have found some here in a place untouched by the coming war. I could not question him about Raven, not at this moment; I would wait until we were further down the river, wait until Lothlorien was behind us before I questioned him. But I would be more watchful of him and of Raven; I would have to watch him and Frodo as well. Lothlorien is a place of peace and healing, I will not shatter that by demanding answers, patience and a few miles of river is all that I require before getting the answers I need.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	22. Travel by river

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

22.

We departed from Lothlorien early the following morning. The Lady Galadriel gave us each gifts—to Merry and Pippin she gave elvish daggers and sheaths, to Aragorn was given a curved elven knife, Frodo was given light from a star, Sam received elvish rope, Legolas and I received a new bow and quiver; Gimli's gift was unknown to us and Boromir walked away before his could be given. Lady Galadriel gave each of us cloaks, that would protect us from unfriendly eyes, we were also given packages of something which Legolas identified.

"Lembas. Elvish waybread. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man." Legolas seemed rather happy with this gift and he strode over to the boat he would share with Gimli.

Merry and Pippin looked at each other for a moment and Merry asked quietly.

"How many did you eat?"

"Four." Pippin then let out a stifled belch and groaned slightly. He and Merry did not touch the Lembas the rest of the day.

We departed in boats before the sun had fully risen, leaving Lothlorien and the elves behind. I am not sure how I felt about leaving, I loved the place for its beauty and song, yet Lady Galadriel was…unsettling. While she had been speaking to us this morning, there was a pressure in my mind—as though something was trying to get in, then the Lady had frowned at me before we set out upon the river. I rode in a boat with Aragorn and Frodo, yet I could feel someone watching me the entire time we traveled upon the river that day, it was unsettling. I would have to speak to Aragorn soon, for he was not going to wait much longer before he decided to ask again about what had happened in Moria. I am afraid, afraid to speak to him, afraid to tell him what happened, yet I am not sure why I am afraid of speaking to Aragorn.

We had only stayed in Lothlorien for two days, yet that was enough time to feel the change in the air, the change in the way that the elves watched us. Though none approached us, many stared at me and I remembered that this was how the elves in Rivendell had reacted to me as well…staring in disbelief, anger, and sorrow. I still do not know why the elves stare at me, yet I prefer their stares to the ones I am receiving from another boat farther back than Aragorn's. Was there really any reason to be worried about Aragorn? I did not think so, yet I was still afraid of what he would do…what the consequence would be for what I had done.

Galadriel's parting words to Aragorn had left him shaken, and uncertain.

"You have your own choice to make, Aragorn. To rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin."

I know Aragorn has a great many of choices ahead of him, many paths which diverge from one another, and only he can choose which ones to take. Whether they be for the betterment of the world or for its destruction; these are the choices which await Aragorn. I will stand by him, I will protect him, and I will not abandon him.

Sound carried across the water, Gimli's words were heard by all present even though he had not spoken them very loud.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting…having looked my last upon that which is fairest. Henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me."

"What was her gift?" Queried Legolas.

"I asked her for one hair from her golden head. She gave me three."

Legolas smiled and silence fell once again over the water and those who travelled upon it. Our passage down the river was silent and swift; none of us dared make a sound for fear of being heard by the bands of orcs which were rumored to patrol the eastern shore. We travelled past dense green forests, which sang a different song than the trees of Lothlorien, past tall cliffs which hung out over the river and seemed to be trying to lean down to touch the smooth surface of the river. All day we rowed down the river, nothing happened until it was nearly nightfall. There came a sense of foreboding, Legolas's eyes were ever searching the shore, there were times it seemed that he saw something, yet he did not speak. Even though Legolas did not say anything, I could feel something coming. Something evil, running towards us…wanting nothing more than to eliminate us from the face of the earth, wanting to crush us into dust. It was with unspoken consent that we began to paddle our boats faster down the river, hoping to outrun whatever was following us.

* * *

When night had fallen, we stopped on the shore of the river to set up camp and get some rest before continuing forward in the morning. It was not long before most of the Fellowship fell into an uneasy sleep.

**Aragorn's POV:**

Now would probably be the best time to speak to Boromir, most of the others are asleep and he is standing away from everyone else, if it is not now then I may not get another chance for a while. I had not failed to notice the way he looked at Raven, nor had I missed the way he watched and stared at her when he thought no one was looking. He had watched her all day from his boat, and I have to confront him tonight. I came up behind him as he peered out at the river from behind a boulder, watching something…probably the same something that had been following us since Moria. This would be as fine a conversation starter as any, though I would prefer to get to the real reason I want to speak with him.

"Gollum. He has tracked us since Moria. I had hoped we would lose him on the river. But he is too clever a waterman." Boromir did not take his eyes from the creature known as Gollum, even so he spoke his concerns.

"And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts…it will make the crossing even more dangerous. Minas Tirith is the safer road. You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength." Boromir walked towards me as he spoke, desperation clear in his voice; it was the Ring as well, the Ring had a hold on him. Was he so desperate for the Ring that he would take it to his own city where there was no hope of it coming out?

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us." Though I spoke the truth, this angered him more than I thought it would.

"You were quick enough to trust the Elves. Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty, but there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that." I turned away for but a moment and he grabbed my arm—he had a grip stronger than many men I had encountered…had he gripped Raven this way? He pulled me back with accusation in his next words. "You are afraid! All your life, you have hidden in shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are."

That was going a bit too far. I tugged out of his grasp and shrugged my cloak back in place before I answered him.

"I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city." Boromir seemed a bit taken aback by the anger in my voice; he knows nothing of my anger…not yet anyway. I looked back across the water to the dense forests on the other side of the river, allowing myself to calm down a little before speaking again.

"Raven did not carry bruises when we entered Moria, nor were they sustained in the battle with the goblins; do you know where she may have gotten them? You were the only one who was with her the one time that she was not with the rest of the Fellowship. I have seen the way you watch her, Boromir."

Boromir's face was blank, his stature tense, in the briefest moment before his mouth opened there was a spark of an anger so powerful that it was hard to believe he could hide it so well.

"I know not where they could have come from; I was not with her the entire time. Perhaps she gave them to herself or perhaps she tripped upon some rock or other in one of the darker tunnels. I am just as concerned about the origin of the bruises as you are, why else would I watch her? Do you honestly think that I would harm someone else? You really do think so little of your own people, don't you." Then he turned and walked towards the others, not once giving any sign that he was anything more than insulted.

Legolas joined me by the water's edge—he had heard everything with his elven hearing—neither of us doubted that Boromir was lying, however it seemed that Raven would have to be questioned instead if we were to get an answer. I would get an answer; Boromir would not get away with whatever he had done to cause such marks on her skin. I need to speak with Raven as soon as possible, once we land on the morrow would be the best time, then our words will not echo across the water to be heard by all. Legolas and I remained awake and watchful for a long while after the others were asleep, concern for the dangers close at hand and the danger headed this way, plagued our minds well into the night.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	23. A horn is broken

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

23.

It was not even truly dawn before we were moving again, rowing down the river to the place where we would finally disembark and continue on foot towards Mordor. There was a tense silence before we set out, as well as a feeling of barely concealed hostility between Aragorn and Boromir. It was obvious to the rest of us that something had passed between them, something that made both of them angry with the other. We left the shore as quickly as possible, silence prevailing over the Fellowship. I could feel the eyes of Boromir on me as we moved down river; I knew then that Aragorn had spoken to him, for Boromir's gaze seemed angrier than before.

We passed through cliffs which towered above us on either side, so high that they blotted out the sky except for what was directly above us. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide if we were attacked here, we had to move quickly through this part of the river and hope that no enemy was there waiting in secret to ambush us. As our boats came around a bend in the river, to see two massive statues carved entirely of stone rising up from the ground, standing on either side of the river. Their hands outstretched as though they forbid entry to any who dared come this far; as we stared up at them in awe, Aragorn said softly.

"The Argonath. Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin."

A shiver ran down my spine as I gazed up at the figures carved in stone, what great things had these men done that they would have such great statues built of them? If these were Aragorn's kin, then what great things would be his to do…what great things would be told of the deeds of Aragorn, the deeds of a king who lived among elves?

We sailed on between them, our boats miniscule beside the base of the stone sentries, feeling so frail, so fleeting beside things that had lasted centuries and would last for many more. Beyond the Argonath lay a lake, and at the far end could be seen a single pillar rising from the center of the place where the river vanished over the edge and formed a formidable waterfall. This was the place where we would have to cross the river and make the rest of the journey on foot. We brought the boats ashore on the far side of the lake near the falls; we made sure the boats were pulled ashore far enough that they would not be pulled back in by the river. I glanced over at Boromir and saw him gripping the sides of his boat, some internal struggle clearly waging inside him, I hastily returned my attention to Aragorn and his instructions to us all.

"We cross the lake at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north."

Gimli interrupted, a little irritated by the long days stuck in a boat on the river. "Oh, yes? Just a simple matter of finding our way across Emyn Muil…an impassible labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks. And after that, it gets even better. Festering stinking marshland as far as the eye can see." Pippin was looking at Gimli with great alarm, I do not think he had ever heard of these places before and he was not encouraged by the dwarf's speech. Aragorn replied calmly.

"That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and gather your strength, Master Dwarf." I smiled at this and followed the songs of the trees, following the song farther inland, as Gimli replied gruffly.

"Recover my—"

I moved silently through the trees, feeling the rough and smoothness of the bark of the trees beneath my hands, listening to the different songs which flowed together into one harmony which was the forest. The tree-song is beautiful, touching something deep within me—awakening something I had previously been unaware of, making me feel lighter than before…happier and more…free. Why had I never heard the trees before Lothlorien, why were those songs lost to me when I heard them all now? My stay in Lothlorien must have changed something inside me, let me hear the songs of the trees. As I moved silently over the fallen leaves, I heard shouting up ahead; it sounded like Boromir…Boromir shouting at Frodo.

"I ask only for the strength to defend my people!"

I froze, my hand clutching at the bark on the tree, fear gripping me—constricting my chest and taking the air from my lungs. My breath came in gasps, my heart pounding rapidly—wanting to break free of the confines of my chest; I could not move, could not lessen my hold on the tree. Yet the next words I heard from Boromir, forced me to move forward.

"You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us!"

I had to move, force my legs forward. I began to run, moving silently through the trees; I had to get to Frodo, I had to help him. Boromir was not in his right mind, that was certain, and there was no telling what he might do. I reached the clearing where Boromir was, in time to hear him shout one last time before he tripped and fell forward onto his face in the leaves; Frodo was nowhere to be seen.

"Curse you! Curse you and all the halflings!"

I came to a halt a few arms lengths away from Boromir, I had made no sound as I entered this area of forest, yet his head shot up and he glared at me with more anger than I had seen before in his face. I backed away swiftly, knowing I should not linger here. Boromir leapt to his feet, his expression changing from one of anger to one of absolute rage, he lunged towards me and I turned and fled into the trees. I ran silently through the fallen leaves which were strewn across the forest floor, I leapt over logs, trying to get as far away from him as possible. Even as fast as I was moving, Boromir was faster. He tackled me to the ground, I rolled under him and he grabbed my wrists tightly in one hand and pinned me to the ground. I looked up at Boromir, terror filling me as I saw his face…a completely unrecognizable mask of fury, as he glared down at me. When he spoke, his voice was filled with a cold, hard anger that he had only used once before…in Moria, in the dark of the tunnel.

"You said something, didn't you? You said something to one of the others, you turned them against me! Who do you think you are? You are nothing! The scum on my boots is more than you will ever be, you are only good for one thing, and you will never be good for anything else. I will make you mine, as the throne to Gondor should be mine." Boromir slapped me when he had finished speaking, that is when I did something that I had not done in many years…something that had been unforgivable. I cried out.

I instantly regretted it, for I was slapped again and then his mouth was on mine, biting at my lips and pressing my head into the ground. His free hand moved along my body, resting on my stomach and trying to move his fingers under my bodice and onto my skin. His fingers scrabbled at the knots tying it closed, getting the knots loose enough to slide his hand under my bodice and over the bare skin of my stomach. His mouth crushed mine as he shifted slightly, his legs pinning my hips to the ground; his hand moved farther up my body. Tears formed and fell down my face; I was shaking violently as I lay there in the leaves. His mouth left mine as he started to tug at the lacing at the top of my bodice with his teeth, his hand gripped my wrists tighter, I shut my eyes tightly. There was a shout, and then abruptly, he was gone. My wrists were free and he was no longer sitting on me, yet I did not open my eyes. A voice called my name, a gentle and soothing voice.

"Raven. It is alright now; Boromir has fled to another part of the forest."

Slowly, I opened my eyes to see Legolas standing above me; his expression grave and angry, though he was speaking gently. Legolas stretched his hand towards me and I cautiously took it. Somehow knowing that he would not hurt me, his hand was strong though it was not a frightening grip he had on my hand as he helped me to my feet. Legolas looked at my bruised face, my dirt covered dress, the leaves in my hair, and the ripped and opened lacing of my bodice. He sighed regretfully, brushed some of the leaves from my hair and said.

"I would that there was time to take proper care of you, time to find Boromir and have him answer for this, however we are needed elsewhere. There are orcs here, orcs taller and of a different build than I have ever seen. I must go help Aragorn, he is fighting them on his own; I sent Gimli on to help him when I heard your cry. I am loathe to leave you behind, yet I will not make you accompany me to battle; it is your choice, Raven."

He held my bow and quiver in one hand; I took them and nodded once. If Aragorn was on his own, fighting a new kind of orc, then I needed to be at his side; I would have to deal with what had happened later, for now the king needed me. Legolas looked at me strangely—no doubt thinking I was mad for wanting to fight orcs after what had just happened, however I had made a promise and I had to keep it. Feeling scared would have to wait, as would feeling pain—I had gone on and done far more arduous work through worse pain than this before, right now I had to get to Aragorn.

* * *

Legolas and I ran towards the sounds of fighting, the sound of metal hitting metal ringing through the trees, the cries of injured and angry creatures loud amidst the unnatural quiet of the forest. Aragorn stood alone fighting orc after orc, his blade swinging through the air so fast that it could not be seen, his sword dealing death with each blow. Gimli stood farther up in the trees, his axes dancing madly as he too took down one orc after another. Legolas had said that these orcs were different than any he had seen before…they seemed different, more resilient than others of their kind. Legolas wasted no time in getting his first arrow loaded and fired into the horde of orcs, his arrows flying faster than I had seen them fly before. I hurried to a fallen column and stood upon it, firing arrows of my own at the orcs surrounding Aragorn; the motion of firing arrow after arrow, taking my mind off of what had happened.

Aragorn ran down the hill, his sword and curved knife bringing death to any who came within his sight, his blade slicing through multiple orcs at a time, while none of the weapons wielded by the orcs touched him. Legolas used his arrows both as they were meant to be used, and to stab orcs who got too close to him as he was loading another arrow—stabbing orcs in the face with the arrow head before loading it onto his bow and killing another orc with the same arrow. When he ran out of arrows, Legolas drew two knives and used them to kill just as many orcs as he had when he had wielded his bow; never stopping to take a breath, and never seeming to need to. Aragorn stabbed one orc in the abdomen and then slammed his head into the archway of a ruined stone structure, without turning around he then stabbed an orc who had come up behind him, by sliding his sword to the side and stabbing backwards. Gimli swung his axes in a circle of death, killing or incapacitating any orc who came near—sometimes running after orcs in order to finish them off.

Legolas had found more arrows and was firing them rapidly, Aragorn was up against a tree, an orc pinning him there and trying to kill him with its fist. Aragorn managed to get away from the tree, yet the orc had its hand around his throat; I drew my bow, took careful aim and fired the arrow into the back of the orc. The orc fell to the ground just as the sound of a horn echoed through the trees; Legolas spoke as he identified it.

"The horn of Gondor."

"Boromir." Aragorn drew the only conclusion possible and took off down the hill, hurrying to aid the man who blew it. He cut down any orc in his path as he raced down the hill towards the sound of the horn; Legolas, Gimli, and I ran after him.

Aragorn was much faster than either I or the dwarf was. He leapt over logs and killed groups of orcs as they too went down the hill, he did not stop for long…only the amount of time needed to kill the orcs—slicing off limbs and cutting off head as he went, before he was running again. Leaving the three of us to follow and kill any remaining orcs he left in his wake.

Somehow I got ahead of Legolas and Gimli, right behind Aragorn as he leapt and tackled a rather large orc to the ground. I stopped dead, unable to move as I took in the sight before me. Boromir was kneeling on the ground, three large arrows sticking out of his body, a sea of dead orcs around him—he did not look as though he could move. Aragorn was fighting the orc who had been about to shoot another arrow into Boromir.

Their swords clashing with echoing clangs of metal meeting metal, the orc was stronger than Aragorn and he sent him flying backwards to hit a tree. Before Aragorn could move, he was trapped there by a shield which the orc had thrown and was now embedded in the tree, only leaving a hole wide enough for Aragorn's neck between the shield's curved base and the tree. The massive orc swung its sword back; Aragorn squirmed and struggled to get his head through the hole before the sword took it off his shoulders. He barely pulled his head through before the sword landed, cutting into the tree where his head had been; Aragorn punched the orc in the gut and fell to the ground. He rolled under the raised sword of the orc, drawing his dagger as he did so and plunging it into the orc's leg. The orc punched him in the face, grabbed him by the collar and then head-butted him, before sending Aragorn flying backwards across the ground.

How could I just stand here and watch Aragorn possibly get killed by this orc? Why couldn't I move, I had to do something to help him…I had to.

As Aragorn tried to get up, the orc pulled the dagger out of his leg, raised it to its mouth and licked the blood from the blade before he threw it at Aragorn, who swung at it with his sword and sent it flying off in another direction. Aragorn got to his feet as the orc charged at him, swinging his sword more aggressively at the orc and blocking its blows. Aragorn swung his blade up and cut off the orcs arm, then before the orc could react, he stabbed it in the stomach. The orc grabbed the sword near Aragorn's hand and pulled the sword deeper into itself, pulling Aragorn closer as it snarled at him, Aragorn whipped the sword out of the orc and in the same movement; he cut off the orc's head.

He only took a half-second to breathe before he hurried over to Boromir—who had leaned back against a nearby tree and was growing paler by the minute. I too moved forward and knelt by Aragorn, ready to assist if I could. Boromir's first words were in concern for the hobbits who he had been protecting.

"They took the little ones." Aragorn spoke as he tried to assess the damage done by the arrows.

"Hold still."

Boromir grabbed Aragorn's shoulder as he asked desperately: "Frodo. Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go."

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him." Aragorn replied as calmly as he could, trying to reassure the dying man.

"The Ring is beyond our reach now."

"Forgive me, I did not see it. I have failed you all."

"No, Boromir. You fought bravely. You have kept your honor." Aragorn finished speaking and his hands moved to the arrows to remove them from Boromir's chest. Boromir looked over Aragorn's shoulder and saw me, he went even paler than he already had been and he struggled to speak.

"I lied to you, Aragorn. I gave Raven the bruises, that day in Moria. I gave her the ones today as well. I wanted to take her for my own; I know she is your servant. Forgive me, Aragorn. In this I was blinded by the Ring as well."

Aragorn was silent for a long moment before he nodded and gave the dying man the thing he wanted so badly. It was not his right to deny any man forgiveness as he died, everyone deserved to be forgiven…yet he would by no means forget.

"I will forgive you Boromir, though I cannot say the same for Raven." Aragorn looked at me and I nodded. After all, who was I to deny anyone forgiveness, I am not important enough that he should worry about my forgiving him. I now knew that Boromir was not himself…how can I fault him for being under the power of the Ring?

Boromir looked once more at Aragorn and spoke again, his voice fading as he did so.

"It is over. The world of Men will fall, and all will come to darkness…and my city to ruin."

Aragorn placed his hand over the one that clasped his shoulder, speaking gently to the man from Gondor. "I do not know what strength is in my blood…but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall…nor our people fail."

"Our people." Aragorn nodded once in confirmation that he had said that, and Boromir spoke again. "Our people. " Boromir reached for his sword which had fallen at his side. Aragorn picked it up and handed it to the man, Boromir grasped it and held it to his chest.

Legolas and Gimli burst through the trees—having finished off any wandering band of orcs they had encountered—they both stopped at the edge of this clearing, staring in devastated silence as they saw their fallen comrade.

"I would have followed you, my brother. My captain. My king." Those were the final words which Boromir of Gondor spoke.

Aragorn leaned forward and whispered "Be at peace, son of Gondor." Kissed the man's forehead—a blessing to take with him to the next world—Aragorn stood and said softly "They will look for his coming from the White Tower. But he will not return." As he looked up, a single tear ran down his face. Then he and Legolas carried Boromir's body back to the boats.

* * *

Boromir was laid in one boat with his sword, shield, and broken horn at his side. The boat was put in the water and we watched as it floated down river and toppled over the waterfall, I stood at the edge of the shore, watching the boat go over the edge. Aragorn strapped on Boromir's greaves and walked up to stand beside me; he gently took my shoulders and turned me to face him.

"Raven, are you going to be alright?"

I nodded and answered quietly: "I have had far worse injuries, Aragorn."

His hand brushed the hair from my face and cupped my cheek. He looked at me a little sadly, for he knew the truth of my words, then his thumb lightly brushed my cheek and he turned to Legolas and Gimli. Legolas was pushing a boat into the water.

"Hurry! Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore." Legolas watched Aragorn for a moment before speaking quietly. "You mean not to follow them."

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands." The words seemed to have trouble coming out of Aragorn's mouth, yet he said them firmly and did not waver. Legolas looked back across the river at the boat sitting on the shore where Frodo and Sam had left it; Gimli's words were rather hollow when he said them.

"Then it has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed."

Aragorn looked at them both, strode towards them, and clasped their shoulders. Offering them what reassurance he could. "Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left." He turned and began gathering up some of the supplies scattered across the shore. "Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light." Aragorn slid his knife into its sheath, looked up and said five words before taking off into the forest. "Let us hunt some orc."

Legolas, Gimli , and I looked at each other then Gimli let out an exuberant: "Yes!", and we ran into the forest after Aragorn.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	24. Running, always running

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

24.

The trail of the large orcs was easy to follow while we remained in the forest—their feet had trampled and broken many plants along the way and created a wide path for us to follow. The very trees seemed to be urging us on—branches moved behind us and seemed to push us forward, leaves and plants appeared to bend out of our way and make the path clearer to follow, trying to help us go faster and catch up with the strange orcs. We left the forest behind and ran across a hilly grassland, craggy cliffs and boulders everywhere; it would be easy for someone to get lost here if they got separated. Legolas and Aragorn ran far ahead, Gimli falling farther behind—encumbered by his heavy armor, I ran between them…keeping Gimli in sight behind and Aragorn in sight ahead.

As we ran, I would notice the dark looks which the other three would sometimes get upon their faces when they looked at me. It took a few miles for me to realize that they were not angry with me, but that they were angry about the bruises and about what had happened. I did not blame Boromir for what happened, I know that my having bruises bothered them, yet I am unsure why. Or even why Boromir's actions were wrong…he was right, I am only a servant, so why should what happens to me matter? The terrain was growing more rocky with each mile that we ran, soon there was more rock and cliff than bare ground.

* * *

Shortly before mid-day on the fourth morning of our pursuit, we ran towards two towering cliffs which created a narrow path between them. Aragorn sped up and climbed to the top of one cliff, he lay on the ground and put his ear atop a rock—listening to the sounds of the orc's movements far ahead. Legolas motioned for us to stop in order to give Aragorn quiet as he listened to the earth. He did not move for several minutes, then he spoke urgently.

"Their pace has quickened." Aragorn got up from the ground and looked ahead to where the orcs had run. "They must have caught our scent. Hurry!" Then he took off running across the ground, leaving us to scramble up the cliff—except for Legolas who managed to look graceful doing so, and then run after him across the plain. Legolas stopped at the top, long enough to look back at Gimli—who was lagging behind, and say.

"Come on, Gimli!" This irritated the Dwarf and caused him to stop and catch his breath before he spoke in little more than a grumble.

"Three days and nights pursuit. No food. No rest. And no sign of our quarry, but what bare rock can tell."

Until Gimli had said something, I had not realized that we had been running across country for three days and nights. I was shocked when I realized this and wondered how we were still moving forward at so swiftly a pace. We could not keep at this pace for much longer, could we? Surely there would come a day when we had to stop and rest…or would we simply fall asleep on our feet and topple off some cliff which we were scaling?

* * *

We ran past mountainous valleys filled with forests and rivers, looking down into these hidden valleys from the higher cliffs which we ran along. Gimli fell farther and farther behind, yet he did not stop. Aragorn came to an abrupt halt, knelt down on the ground and picked something up which had been embedded in the earth. He brushed the grass from it; his voice held renewed hope when he spoke.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall." I stopped at Aragorn's side, and looked at the object in his hand—daring to hope that perhaps we could save the hobbits. Legolas ran past, yet he doubled back when Aragorn spoke. He turned and looked at the object held in Aragorn's open hand—a leaf clasp from one of the cloaks which had been given to us in Lothlorien. Legolas voiced what we all were thinking, yet had not said.

"They may yet be alive."

"Less than a day ahead of us. Come." Aragorn said, as he looked once more at the ground before getting back to his feet and running onward. I started forward as well, however my feet came to a halt as Gimli came tumbling down the hill and onto the path behind us. I started towards him to see if he was alright; Legolas turned as well and shouted encouragement to the Dwarf.

"Come, Gimli! We are gaining on them!" The Elf then turned back around and ran swiftly after Aragorn.

Gimli got to his feet, nodded in thanks to me for hanging back, and shouted back at the Elf. "I'm wasted on cross-country. We Dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous over short distances."

Gimli and I ran to catch up with the others, reaching them as they stopped atop a hill and looked out across the land from atop some rocks. The terrain before us was more of the same rocky plain that we had just traversed. Aragorn looked out across the land and spoke quietly.

"Rohan. Home of the Horse-Lords. There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us." Aragorn looked out over the land as he spoke. The moment he finished speaking, he leapt down from the rock and began running across the land of Rohan; the rest of us followed quickly as we could.

Legolas ran ahead of us and stopped when Aragorn shouted a question. "Legolas! What do your Elf-eyes see?"

"The Uruks turn northeast. They are taking the hobbits to Isengard."

Aragorn appeared to realize something at this statement for he breathed one word. A word which sent shivers down my spine when I remembered what that person's voice had done on Caradhras. "Saruman."

Legolas and Aragorn shared a grim look and then we once again moved forward across the land of Rohan, somehow managing to run faster than before. The rocks and boulders seemed to grow smaller as we continued to run across the land. I had a name for what we chased after, Uruk. They ere a different breed of orc...one which had not been encountered before, and they were far swifter than their orc brethren. Gimli was talking to himself as we climbed yet another hill strewn with rocks. "Keep breathing. That's the key. Breathe."

The sun was falling from the sky when Legolas made an observation about the Uruks which we were following. "They've run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them."

No one paused to say anything more. Running on and on through hills, over boulders and grassy fields…running, always running. We ran on into the night, never stopping and never slowing. I was immensely grateful that my feet had grown used to the boots and were no longer covered in blisters; even so, it was difficult to keep running. After four days and nights of non-stop running I was no longer sure that I even had feet anymore.

* * *

At dawn, Legolas stopped and turned to look at the sun. When he spoke, his words were not very encouraging. "A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night." Legolas began running once again, his feet barely touching the ground which he travelled over.

Though this news did not bode well for our search for the hobbits, I had to hope that they were still alive and it was not their blood which had been spilled. Aragorn crouched down on the ground, looking at something in the dirt and grass at his feet. His head shot upwards and a look of alarm crossed his face; a hundred horses and their riders were approaching. They would be upon us in a matter of seconds, and they did not seem friendly.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	25. Encounter with Horsemen

**Author's note: I am sorry to whomever this may offend, or to those who will no longer want to read this story...however, I am making this an Aragorn/OC thing. I have tried to simply let things fall where they may and see where everything is heading, however it seems that a certain person is determined to become too close for normal affection levels to permit. Once again, I am sorry to those of you who do not like this. I am not sure it can be helped at this point though, as a few of the characters are pointing to this eventual outcome regardless of what I attempt to do to fix it. They become unhappy and so I must re-write the lines and paragraphs until they are happy once more. Such is the life of a writer. I hope that this does not make many of you too upset, and if it does...than I thank you for reading thus far and wish you luck finding something less upsetting. **

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

25.

Aragorn hurriedly stood up, motioned for us to follow, and ran behind an outcropping of rock. Legolas, Gimli, and I followed, darting behind the rock an instant before the horsemen topped the hill and galloped down the other side. They rode past with their spears held high, and a sense of gloom hung about them. Aragorn appeared to recognize something about these horsemen for, when the last one had passed the rock which we hid behind, he came out from behind it and shouted.

"Riders of Rohan…what news from the Mark?"

We instantly knew that the Riders had heard him, for the lead horseman turned his spear—signaling the others to turn and follow him, they all galloped back towards us. Within seconds we were surrounded by the hundred men on horseback, their spears lowered and pointed at us…if we so much as moved, we would be skewered by at least three spears. Legolas and Gimli looked at Aragorn and then each other, questioning whether what Aragorn had done had been a good idea or not. Aragorn appeared to be second guessing his choice as well, for when he raised his hands to show he meant no harm…he looked rather uncertain.

One horseman rode forward through the throng of horses and men, he came to a stop before Aragorn…his voice was filled with disdain when he spoke.

"What business does and Elf, a Man, a girl, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

This was not a man to be trifled with, whoever he was, he would not allow any stalling or irritating comments…one wrong word and we would all be on the end of a spear. Therefore it was rather unfortunate that Gimli was the one who spoke first.

"Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine."

Aragorn gave Gimli a look of exasperation—no doubt wishing that the dwarf had not said anything. However, the man on the horse had an entirely different reaction; he glared at Gimli for a moment before swinging down from his horse and walking up to the dwarf to loom over him, as he spoke with anger filled words. Aragorn placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder as the man approached.

"I would cut off your head, Dwarf…if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

In one swift movement, Legolas drew an arrow and had his bow aimed at the man's face. Legolas's voice was cold and angry when he spoke to the man who had threatened Gimli.

"You would die before your stroke fell."

Legolas had every spear pointed at him the instant that his bow was drawn. Aragorn stepped in front of the man and lowered Legolas's bow with a hand on the arrow. This entire situation had gotten out of hand rather quickly. Aragorn gave Legolas a look to tell him to calm down, then he turned to the unknown man and spoke as calmly as he could.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan and of Theoden, your king."

He did not introduce me to the man, instead he shifted slightly to hide me from sight—Legolas than shifted to aid Aragorn in shielding me, I was confused about this, but did not dare speak into the tense silence which followed. The man glanced over at me and frowned, he appeared to be debating something before his spoke with a voice laced with bitterness and sorrow.

"Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." He reached up to his helmet and removed it, signaling his men to lower raise their spears and no longer point them at us. "Not even his own kin. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king…and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say…as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everywhere, his spies slip past our nets." The man glared at each of us in turn, his glare staying on Legolas as he finished speaking. Aragorn spoke quickly, both to reassure him that we were not spies, and to stop the man from staring angrily at the elf.

"We are no spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive." The man looked decidedly uncomfortable at this, he looked at the ground, then glared once again as he answered Aragorn.

"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

Gimli barely let the man finish speaking before he blurted his question, desperate to hear the fate of our friends. "But there were two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?"

Aragorn broke in as well, explaining to the man what hobbits were, as he had most likely never heard of them. "They would be small. Only children to your eyes."

The man shook his head before he answered almost regretfully. "We left none alive." His words were met by silence and a deep sense of loss swept over us; we had not saved Merry and Pippin, they had died in the night at the hands of the men of Rohan. The man turned to look back the way he had come and spoke again. "We piled the carcasses and burned them."

We all peered around the man to see a single column of smoke rising into the sky, the column marking the place where the hobbits had been killed and then burned with their Uruk-hai captors. Gimli stared in disbelief, a single word forcing its way from his lips.

"Dead?"

The man only nodded in confirmation. I felt tears begin to fall down my face, sorrow at the deaths of the two hobbits enveloping me. The two fun loving hobbits who always had a story to tell, the two hobbits who could always make us laugh when things were bad, the two hobbits who always had a kind word for everyone…the two hobbits who were my friends.

The movement of my hand wiping away my tears drew the man's attention back to where I stood mostly hidden by Aragorn and Legolas. The man's gaze hardened, anger was visibly rising within him; he made an odd movement with his hand and I felt strong hands grab my arms in a vice-like grip. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli's hands moved to their weapons, then they looked at the surrounding horsemen and lowered their hands again. However, they kept their eyes on me and the man as he began speaking. His voice filled with anger, disgust and oddly—betrayal.

"Who is this person who you have not seen fit to introduce to me and my company? Your whore no doubt." The man stepped closer to me, his hand rising level with my face. He extended a finger and touched my cheek, ran it along my cheekbone, down to my jaw, and over my lips. The man did not turn around as he continued speaking, and therefore missed the angry looks which the other three were giving him. "A pretty poor one at that, it would seem, but a whore nonetheless. I am sure that spies of the White Wizard can afford a better whore than this one. Were these "hobbits" of yours, the ones who bedded her the most frequently, and the tears she sheds are for her lost lovers? In Rohan, the penalty for being a whore is death."

When the man finished speaking, he wiped his finger on the end of his cloak, as though he had touched something foul…something disgusting and evil. There was a low growl from behind him and the man turned to find its source standing about three feet away and four feet tall. The man glanced at the faces of Legolas and Aragorn as well before focusing back on the dwarf; the former looking as though he was mere seconds away from murdering the man, the latter seeming torn between restraining his friend, or helping him.

"I would not be talking that way about Raven, or our friends which _you_ and your men murdered last night. At least, not if you want to keep your head upon your shoulders instead of at your feet." Gimli's words were more growled than spoken. There was a tense silence in which Aragorn hurried to calm himself enough to speak before the dwarf and the rest of them were skewered on the long spears which had been lowered again.

"Raven is no whore. She is not that sort of girl and the hobbits were not the sort who would do such things even if she were. We are not spies of Saruman; we were friends of Gandalf the Grey before he fell into shadow and flame." Aragorn stared hard at the man, watching for any sign of belief in his face. His hand dropping from his sword when the man gave a curt nod and backed away from me, the spears were once again raised and my arms were freed.

Legolas gently took my arm and pulled me over to him and back into the safety of his and Aragorn's shadow. The man strode back to his horse, and addressed Aragorn with forced apology in his tone.

"I am sorry for having offended you. It is difficult to be certain of anything in these dark times." The man licked his lips and called out to his men. "Hasufel! Arod!" Two horses were brought forth; the man grasped the reigns of both horses and said solemnly. "May these horses bear you to better fortunes than their former masters. Farewell." He handed the reins to Aragorn and Legolas, climbed upon his own horse, looked back at Aragorn and spoke a few last words. "Look for you friends. But do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands. We ride north!" The last words were shouted at his company of riders.

They took off at a gallop, riding off across the plains to some unknown destination. Aragorn turned to me and carefully grasped my shoulders in his hands. I had not realized that I was shaking until this moment; Aragorn pulled me against him for a moment before he lifted me onto the horse that was brown. Aragorn got on behind me and turned the horse towards the column of smoke—Legolas and Gimli mounted the white horse called "Hasufel", then the horses were spurred onwards towards the scene of the death of our friends.

* * *

I had never ridden a horse before, and I am not sure it is something that I want to do again. It was quite uncomfortable, yet it was much faster than running across the land of Rohan towards the mound of burned bodies. The first thing that I saw upon approaching the heap of bodies, was a severed head upon a spear; the head dripped with blood and its tongue hung out the side of its mouth…yet the thing that grabbed our attention was the smoking pile of remains. Aragorn and Legolas brought the horses to a halt in front of the pile, looks of devastation upon each of our faces as we gazed upon the bodies of Uruk-hai. Aragorn and I dismounted first, followed shortly thereafter by Legolas and Gimli. Gimli poked through the remains with his axe, unearthing a charred belt with the design of Lothlorien upon it. Gimli managed to choke out a few words until he could say no more.

"It's one of their wee belts."

Legolas closed his eyes and began whispering something in Elvish; Aragorn kicked a helmet across the open grass land and fell to his knees with a cry of anguish. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling tears begin to fall and not being able to stop them—not caring if it was not alright to cry for the death of my friends…the tears would not stop.

For a long moment none of us moved, then Aragorn moved forward on his hands and knees, speaking quietly and with growing excitement in his voice.

"A hobbit lay here. And the other. They crawled. Their hands were bound. Their bonds were cut." Aragorn stood and followed a trail which only he could see, following the trail of the hobbits as they ran from the attack on the Uruk-hai. "They were followed. Tracks lead away from the battle…into Fangorn Forest."

It was then that I really noticed the forest; the song of these trees was so much older than the ones in Lothlorien. These trees were angry, they were ancient and filled with suppressed rage. They groaned to one another…these trees were more alive than any which I had previously encountered and I was curious about them. Gimli spoke with surprise and dread.

"Fangorn? What madness drove them in there?"

We gazed into the dark depths of the forest, a shiver going down each of our spines, yet there was no going back. We had to follow, we had to find the hobbits, and to do that we had to enter Fangorn Forest.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	26. The White Wizard

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

26.

Fangorn was even darker and more foreboding once we entered, the air was dense and seemed far heavier than it should have been. The air was weighted down with the hostility of the trees, they did not want us to be here…we were unwelcome and the trees would not let us pass unharmed if we angered them any further. I listened as the trees talked and sang to one another—occasionally I would have to shake myself in order to keep up with the others and not become lost in this ancient forest full of hostility. Aragorn followed the trail which the hobbits had left, following things that hardly any other person would have seen.

As we walked past a bush, Gimli spotted a blackish substance upon some of its leaves. He swiped a finger over one of the leaves, sniffed it and then licked the substance off of his finger; Gimli spat it out and growled.

"Orc blood."

I shuddered involuntarily…I had no desire to know how Gimli would know that it was orc blood from the taste, especially since the only reason was that he had tasted it before—enough times that he instantly knew what orc blood tasted like. We traversed over stream, rock, and fallen trees; watching the ground for any sign of the hobbit's passing, moving steadily up-hill, and always in the dark gloom of the forest. We had been travelling in the forest for quite some time when Aragorn crouched on the ground and stared at an odd indentation upon the ground, he muttered something almost to himself though it was heard by all of us.

"These are strange tracks."

For tracks they were. Large indentations spaced every fifty or so feet away, whatever had made them must have been larger than even the Balrog. Had this creature found the hobbits first…were they even still alive if things of this size wandered in this forest? Gimli took out his ax and attempted to whisper.

"The air is so close in here."

Legolas looked around at the surrounding trees and said warily. "The forest is old. Very old. Full of memory…and anger." Legolas's eyes widened as the trees began groaning more loudly; Gimli lifted his ax and grunted, holding his ax ready to strike anything that came near. Legolas became surprised and wondrous as he listened and then spoke again. "The trees are speaking to each other."

I looked at Legolas curiously; I walked next to a tree and asked quietly. "You can hear them speak to each other as well, you can hear their songs?"

Legolas looked at me in confusion, before he could say anything Aragorn hissed at Gimli who had been growling and hefting his ax at the surrounding trees.

"Gimli! Lower your ax." Aragorn was looking at Gimli as though this should have been obvious to the dwarf. Gimli's eyes widened—as though he had only just now realized the way that a tree might think about any ax raised against it, then he lowered his ax to his side and raised his other hand as Legolas spoke gently.

"They have feelings, my friend. The Elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

Legolas's words stirred something within me, sharpened some vital part of me that I had not noticed before. My ears seemed to sharpen, to catch things which I had never been able to hear before…sounds of distant animals moving silently through the forest, every crack and rustle of the trees. For a moment everything became brighter, more musical, and lighter than it had been before; Legolas stared at me, and then the light was gone and everything was as it had been before and whatever had sharpened within me…vanished back into nothingness. Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but Gimli spoke first.

"Talking trees. What do trees have to talk about? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings." He looked around more warily than before, as though he was worried that the trees would suddenly spring to life and attack him.

Legolas looked at him as though he had thoroughly insulted both him and the trees, then he walked ahead to put some distance between himself and the dwarf. Legolas sped up to catch Aragorn, speaking in elvish as he moved. The air felt different here, more tense as though it was waiting for something to happen. Aragorn and Legolas walked cautiously forward a little ways and whispered together in elvish; Legolas spoke in common tongue in what must have been an answer to Aragorn's question.

"The White Wizard approaches." All of us became more wary at this announcement, our eyes darting around the clearing to find the location of the wizard. Aragorn looked at us and whispered urgent instructions.

"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us." He grasped the hilt of his sword and began to draw the blade as silently as possible. Gimli tightened his hold on his ax, Legolas drew his bow at hip height in order to keep it hidden for as long as possible and I drew my bow—ready to use it as soon as it was needed. Aragorn continued to give us whispered instruction. "We must be quick."

Aragorn took in a deep breath before he turned and let it out in a yell, his sword swinging at the shape of a man hidden in a sphere of light, a man clothed entirely in white. The White Wizard has come. Gimli threw his ax, only to have it deflected by the wizard's staff. Legolas and my arrows were blocked in the same way, and Aragorn's sword became too hot for him to keep a hold of…he dropped it to the ground before it burned his hand. The light surrounding the wizard grew brighter, so bright we had to shield our eyes against it, or else risk being blinded. For a moment there was silence, then the White Wizard spoke in a voice which was deep and resonated with power; the voice which we had heard on Caradhras.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits."

"Where are they?" Demanded Aragorn.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" The wizard's voice changed as he spoke, turning from a deep commanding voice, to one that was kinder…more gentle, and oddly familiar.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" Aragorn queried with mounting confusion which masked the growing hope in his voice. The light faded from around the wizard, revealing not Saruman, but Gandalf.

Silence permeated through the forest, disbelief, amazement, and wonder coursing through each of us as we stood in the presence of our friend who we thought had died. Aragorn was the first to recover enough to voice what we were all thinking.

"It cannot be."

Legolas spoke next, his voice filled with reverence and remorse as he knelt before the wizard. "Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman."

The White Wizard looked at us and said gently. "I am Saruman. Or rather, Saruman as he should have been."

Aragorn looked as though he still could not believe that Gandalf was standing before us. His voice shook as he spoke again. "You fell."

The White Wizard looked as though he were far away when he spoke. "Through fire…and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak…I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last I threw down my enemy…and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me…and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead…and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done."

Aragorn stepped towards the wizard, his voice filled with wonder as he called the wizard by name. "Gandalf."

The wizard looked at Aragorn in confusion. "Gandalf? Yes. That was what they used to call me." Aragorn nodded in affirmation, the wizard smiled and continued. "Gandalf the Grey. That was my name." His smile widened.

"Gandalf." Gimli nearly whispered, a smile brightening his face.

"I am Gandalf the White. And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide." Gandalf wrapped his old grey cloak around him and we followed him through Fangorn. I was amazed that the trees were less hostile towards us after Gandalf joined us, for their songs and their speech were far more amiable, thoughnot exactly friendly.

* * *

As we walked through part of the forest which was close to the edge, Gandalf began speaking to us in an authoritative voice. "One stage of your journey is over. Another begins. We must travel to Edoras with all speed."

"Edoras?" Gimli sputtered in surprise. "That is no short distance!"

"We hear of trouble in Rohan. It goes ill with the king." Aragorn quietly informed Gandalf.

Gandalf stopped and said gravely. "Yes, and it will not be easily cured."

"Then we have run all this way for nothing? Are we to leave those poor hobbits here…in this horrid, dark, dank tree-infested-?" The trees began to grown more angrily as the dwarf spoke, becoming angry and threatening once more. "I mean, charming…quite charming forest." Gimli hastily added.

I smiled reassuringly at the dwarf, listening as the trees were appeased and settled back down. Gandalf turned and spoke to us once more.

"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones…that starts an avalanche in the mountains."

The trees songs became excited at the words which Gandalf spake. They seemed to be straining to rip themselves from the ground to see what it was that these hobbits were going to do. Aragorn smiled and leaned towards Gandalf.

"In one thing you have not changed, dear friend." Gandalf turned and leaned his head closer, so as not to miss Aragorn's next words. "You still speak in riddles." Both Gandalf and Aragorn chuckled for a moment, then Gandalf looked to the trees.

"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days. The Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong." These words made the trees even more excited. They began whispering to each other, speaking in groans and leaning towards one another. I too grew excited, his words reawakening something inside me that Legolas's words had previously awoken. I know not what it was, for it was quickly extinguished by Gimli's startled exclamation which brought the trees to an abrupt and hostile silence.

"Strong?! Oh, that's good." He looked nervously at the trees, no doubt wanting to get out of the forest as soon as he could. Gandalf appeared to think so as well, for he was more chastising than reassuring the dwarf with his next words.

"So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf." Gandalf turned and walked swiftly away, continuing to speak as he did so. "Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be." Gandalf walked out of sight with Aragorn at his side.

"This new Gandalf's more grumpy than the old one." Grumbled Gimli, then he followed after Aragorn and Gandalf. Leaving Legolas and I to bring up the rear as we exited the forest, leaving the trees waiting in anticipation for something which Gandalf had called an "Ent."

* * *

Once we stepped out of the gloom of Fangorn and into the bright light of day—our horses had somehow known where we would emerge and were there waiting for us, Gandalf let out a long and melodious whistle. A horse whinnied and came running up the hill towards him, yet it was a horse more graceful than any which I had previously seen. It was of the purest white—white to match the whiteness of Gandalf's new robes, and it seemed more noble than any other horse possibly could. Legolas looked at the horse in awe bordering reverence and said softly.

"That is one of the Mearas…unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." He watched the horse run up to Gandalf who held out his hand to the horse as it came to a halt before him.

"Shadowfax. He is the lord of all horses and has been my friend through many dangers." Gandalf reached up and stroked the neck of the majestic horse. Then we all mounted the horses and rode off at a swift gallop, towards Edoras. We rode hard across the land of Rohan, urging the horses onwards and with all haste, for we hoped to make Edoras by mid-day on the morrow.

* * *

Early the following day we crested a hill and halted the horses, for there ahead of us lay the city of Edoras. It sat high upon a lone hill, the various buildings sprawled across the surface—some precariously placed on the sides, high above the other buildings sat what could only be the home of the king. Edoras did not appear to be a place which would easily fall to invaders, yet apparently it had fallen to one who had invaded the king himself. Gandalf spoke, informing us that we had indeed reached our destination.

"Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Theoden, King of Rohan…whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Theoden is now very strong."

Aragorn and Legolas gazed grimly at the city of Edoras, then the horses were spurred forward and we crossed the last grassy expanse before entering the gates of the city. Just before we entered the city, a flag tore itself from the ramparts and fluttered down to the ground, landing a few feet away from the horse which Aragorn and I rode. There it fluttered, as though it was a symbol of the last hope which these people had, and it had just fallen to the ground. Aragorn glanced upwards in search of where it had come from, then we went through the gate and entered Edoras.

I looked around the city, and thought that it was a rather grim place. Perhaps the man who we had encountered earlier was right, perhaps there was no hope left in these lands. That is what the people here thought anyway, for they all wore looks of abandonment, sorrow, and hopelessness which I had never before seen on anyone. All of them were garbed in black, all save one woman who stood on the edge of a stone ledge outside of the Golden Hall; she alone was garbed in white. Gimli seemed to share this opinion, for he glanced around and muttered.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard."

We dismounted at the foot of a stairway which led up to the Golden Hall. We reached the top of the stairs, only to be stopped by guards emerging from inside the hall itself. What appeared to be the head guard, spoke to Gandalf.

"I cannot allow you before Theoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame." Gandalf looked confused and so the man clarified. "By order of Grima Wormtongue." The man said the name as though it were something foul, nearly spitting it out of his mouth as though to rid himself of the taste.

Gandalf nodded in understanding and Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and I all handed over our weapons—Legolas and Aragorn did so most reluctantly and with much flourishing of their weapons. Gandalf smiled at the guard before us, expecting us to be let through to see the king.

"Your staff." The guard said, almost apologetically.

"You would not part an old man from his walking stick." Gandalf innocently said to the man.

The guard clearly did not believe him, however he let it go. Gandalf waited until the guard's back was turned, then he winked at Aragorn who smiled briefly. Legolas took Gandalf's arm to aid in the charade of needing a walking stick. We were led through the doors and into the hall where Theoden sat upon his throne.

The guard bowed to the king and stepped aside for us to approach him; while a slimy looking man leaned towards the decrepit king and whispered in his ear. The doors were shut and barred behind us—Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn exchanged worried glances, and men in dark clothing began to move alongside us, hidden in the shadows near the walls of the hall. Gandalf spoke loud enough to be heard by all who were present as he strode up the hall towards the king.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late…Theoden King."

The slimy looking man leaned forward and whispered once more in the king's ear. Then the king himself spoke in a feeble voice which was nearly devoid as devoid of life as it was emotion.

"Why should I welcome you…Gandalf Stormcrow?" the man at his side muttered something to him, before standing and speaking with more authority than the king had.

"Late is the hour…in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest." He had moved forward as he spoke, coming to a stop right before Gandalf who spoke angrily.

"Be silent. Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." Gandalf brought forth his staff and the man quickly backed up, backed towards the king.

"His staff. I told you to take the wizard's staff." As this man spoke, the men from the shadows lunged at Gandalf, only to be stopped by Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas who fought them without weapons and kept them from bothering Gandalf. I stayed at the wizard's side, keeping watch in case any of the men got through the others.

Gandalf strode forward amidst the chaos, speaking to the king and the king alone. "Theoden …son of Thengel. Too long have you sat in the Shadows."

I watched as Legolas hit a man in the face with his raised fist, without even turning around. Gimli ran over to the struggling Wormtongue, placed his foot on the man's stomach and growled, with his ax raised above the man's head.

"I would stay still if I were you."

"Hearken to me!" commanded Gandalf.

Theoden simply glared at him, strange growling noises emitting from him. Gandalf raised his hand and stretched it out towards the king.

"I release you from the spell."

Theoden began to laugh, a loud demented sound which filled the entire hall and seemed to give his voice added strength. "You have no power here…Gandalf the Grey."

Gandalf threw off his grey cloak, standing before the king and all who were in the hall, in his white robes which shone with an ethereal light. The sight of Gandalf's new robes sent the king back against his throne, seemingly afraid of the wizard before him.

"I will draw you Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." Gandalf thrust his staff forward, slamming the king back against his throne; he struggled to lean forward, to resist the power which Gandalf wielded.

A woman in white ran out of an archway, running towards the king. Aragorn caught hold of her and whispered. "Wait." Aragorn held onto her so she would not interfere with what Gandalf was doing.

Saruman snarled through the king's body. "If I go, Theoden dies."

Gandalf slammed the king once more into the back of his throne, his voice commanding as he spoke with Saruman. "You did not kill me…you will not kill him."

"Rohan is mine." Spat the king.

Theoden was slammed into his throne, Gandalf's staff pointed directly at the king's face. "Be gone." Theoden lunged off his throne towards Gandalf. Gandalf raised his staff and smacked the king on the head, sending him backwards and expelling Saruman from the body of the king.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	27. Decisions

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

27.

Gandalf appeared to gather his power back around him; he took as step back and stood erect before the throne of Theoden. The king hunched over on his throne, he would have fallen off if Aragorn had not let the woman in white go. She rushed forward and caught the king before he could topple off the throne to the ground, Theoden looked up at the woman and a change came over him. his countenance cleared, his eyes were no longer filmy, his scraggily white hair receded and became golden-red with streaks of grey, he appeared to have aged backwards nearly twenty years in the matter of a few seconds. The woman smiled at the king, happy to see him the way he had been before the poison of Saruman. Theoden stared at the woman, finally recognizing her and saying softly.

"I know your face. Eowyn. Eowyn." The woman smiled a little wider and gently stroked the king's face—though she smiled, there was much sorrow about her.

Gandalf stepped back to allow the king room to rise. Theoden looked around at the people gathered in the hall, at both the familiar and unfamiliar faces. He looked at Gandalf in some confusion and spoke.

"Gandalf?"

"Breathe the free air again, my friend." Theoden rose slowly from his throne, as though he was unused to standing upon his own legs, Eowyn assisted him to his feet. Once the king was upright, he spoke more clearly than he had before.

"Dark have been my dreams of late." Theoden looked uncertainly at his hands, they shook and he looked as though he did not know what to do with them. Gandalf watched the king examine his hands, then he said firmly.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better…if they grasped your sword." The head guard approached the king and held out a sheath containing a sword, to the king. He extended it hilt first and waited as Theoden reached out with shaking hands to touch the pommel. His fingers wrapped around the sword and he pulled it slowly from its sheath, Theoden gazed at it as though he had never seen this sword before. Then something shifted inside him, Theoden seemed to remember something and his gaze hardened as he turned to glare at Wormtongue—who remained on the floor, trapped there by Gimli.

At a command from Theoden, two guards grabbed Wormtongue roughly by the arms and drug him out the door to be tossed unceremoniously down the stairs. Wormtongue collided with each stair on his way down, finally coming to a halt on the landing where the stairs continued in a different direction. Wormtongue rolled on the ground in pain, clutching at his ribs. Even then he tried to defend himself…to squirm out of the hole he had dug for himself.

"I've only…ever served you, my lord."

Theoden stormed down the stairs towards his advisor, he was menacing in his furs—his sword out, anger etched on his face, and his words dripping with fury. Theoden was a storm which could not be stopped.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" The king continued to advance on Wormtongue, as Wormtongue crawled backwards down the stairs.

"Send me not from your sight."

Theoden roared and swung his sword up over his head, about to bring it down and end the man's life. Aragorn ran forward and grabbed Theoden's arm—restraining him as much as he could—stopping him from killing Wormtongue, and trying to persuade him to be merciful. I hurried after Aragorn, standing at his side, in case I needed to protect him.

"No, my lord! No, my lord. Let him go. Enough blood has been spilt on his account." Theoden looked at Aragorn in disbelief, unable to fully comprehend what was going on.

Wormtongue too seemed unable to understand what was happening; he remained on the ground—blinking up at Aragorn. Aragorn extended his hand to help the man up, and Wormtongue struggled to his feet on his own and spat on Aragorn's hand. I did not understand this man. Aragorn was showing this man mercy, he had stopped Theoden from killing him, and all he could do was spit on the hand offered to him…I truly did not understand.

Aragorn looked at his hand in disgust and shook the spittle from it, then he began to offer his hand once more to Wormtongue. Only he was already running through the crowd, shoving people aside and shouting at them as he went.

"Get out of my way!"

I watched him run through the crowd, sadness enveloping me as I wondered how a man could not see kindness when it was offered him. Was it because he had done so much against the very people whom he had served, and been poisoned by Saruman for so long, that he could no longer see kindness? I was brought back to my surroundings when Aragorn shouted for all to hear.

"Hail, Theoden King!"

All the people of Edoras bowed before their king, their hands fisted over their hearts. Aragorn too bowed before the king—I dropped to my knees at his side—showing Theoden that he too, honored his right to rule over the people of Rohan. Theoden looked around at the people, then he turned back towards Meduseld. Something seemed to strike his thoughts, for his face went pale and he asked almost frantically.

"Where is Theodred? Where is my son?"

* * *

The funeral procession for Theodred was one of the saddest things I have ever witnessed. I watched as the whole city emptied to follow the bier which bore the prince to his grave; all of the citizens weeping for the king's loss as well as for their own. I stood upon the stone ledge outside of the Golden Hall—relishing the feeling of the wind as it swept across the plains and into my face. I tilted my head back, letting the wind blow the refreshing scent of rain to me. My hair is caught by the wind and billows behind me—a mess of black curls becoming even more tangled in the wind. I am uneasy about the decision to let Wormtongue go, I know and understand why he was let go, yet I am unable to shake the sense of foreboding which I have felt ever since the man departed.

Theoden remains at the grave of his son long after the rest of his people return to Edoras, long after the final strains of Eowyn's song have left the air. Gandalf alone remains with him at the mound in the earth where his son is buried and it is unclear whether Theoden will ever leave that place, or if he will remain there as part of the surrounding landscape—a father mourning the loss of his son and protecting his grave. This city had felt so devoid of hope since we arrived here, then when Theoden awoke from his imprisonment inside his own mind, hope was born again. Now with the death of their prince, I fear that the tiny bit of hope which had grown…was now crushed, for how could the people hope if their king did not.

Footsteps sounded nearby, coming closer to me and stopping an arm's length away. A voice that I knew very well spoke, sounding surprised and curious.

"I do not think that I have ever seen you relaxed before, Raven. It is good to know that you can be so relaxed, even as so much sorrow prevails in this world. There is so much that I would show you, so many places in this world with many wondrous things that few have seen before. I would take you north to the lonely mountain, west to the Shire, and south to see the Haradrim; I would show you the forests of Mirkwood where Legolas lives. Yet you have taught me more about kindness, true beauty, patience, and the value of listening to one's surroundings. Raven, if there is one thing which I hope to teach you…it is that you _are _worth so much more than you think, and you have deserved none of the horrible things which have happened to you."

I opened my eyes as Aragorn spoke to me, his voice changing from surprise to one yearning for me to understand what he was telling me. I smiled at him, hoping that my words would be reassuring to him. This man who had a great destiny if he chose to accept it, he was already making decisions that would determine his path…that would lead him to one of many choices.

"I have already seen so many new things since I began travelling with you. I am glad to have been able to return part of the kindness which you have shown me, by teaching you these things…even if I do not know how I managed to teach them to you. I am beginning to see that I am worth something, though I am unsure about not deserving what has happened to me. I will do my best to learn all you have to teach me, Lord Aragorn." I curtsied when I finished speaking, hoping that I had not overstepped some boundary by saying so much.

Aragorn sighed and brushed the back of his hand over my cheek, he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and taking hold of my wrist, he led me to the Golden Hall to eat some food and perhaps bathe before King Theoden spoke to us all.

* * *

When I entered the Golden Hall after having bathed and changed into a clean dress, the others had already arrived and Gandalf was speaking to Theoden. There were two children sitting at a table eating soup, and Eowyn was placing blankets around their shoulders.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for h is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight." Gandalf had placed his hand on the arm of Theoden's throne as he spoke, and the king was looking at that hand with distrust. For that is how Wormtongue had first offered his advice before Theoden's mind was poisoned by a different wizard.

Aragorn spoke from a table set between two pillars with Legolas and Gimli, his words an attempt to help the king see what would be best for his people. "You have 2000 good men riding north as we speak. Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

Theoden abruptly rose from his throne and strode over to pace the hall before his throne. "They will be 300 leagues from here by now. Eomer cannot help us." Gandalf rose and walked towards the king, only to be interrupted. "I know what it is you want of me…but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

Aragorn removed his pipe from his mouth and spoke matter-of-factly. "Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not."

Theoden turned and strode towards Aragorn, frustration in his movements and condensation in his voice when he spoke to Aragorn. "When last I looked…Theoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."

Aragorn did not remove his gaze from that of the king's. In the tense silence that followed, Gimli burped and whipped his mouth with his beard, and Gandalf walked towards Theoden…trying to appease the suddenly tense atmosphere.

"Then what is the king's decision?"

Theoden thought for a moment then he looked at Gandalf and answered. "We ride to Helm's Deep. Every man, woman, and child. We will be safe there."

* * *

Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and I walked in haste towards the stables; Gimli grumbling along the way. "Helm's Deep. They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?"

Aragorn spoke up in defense of Theoden, though it was evident that he did not agree with the king's decision. "He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

Gandalf spoke then, and it was surprising to hear that he actually agreed more with the dwarf than with the king himself. "There is no way out of that ravine, Theoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he is leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre."

Aragorn stared at the wizard, not wanting to believe the words which he had just spoken. Gandalf continued.

"Theoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold."

Aragorn looked as though a heavy burden had just been placed onto his shoulders, a burden which he had to carry or else doom the people of Rohan to extinction. He nodded and said firmly. "They will hold."

Gandalf turned and stood beside Shadowfax, when he next spoke it was almost more to himself. "The Grey Pilgrim. That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of Men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time." He climbed onto his horse as Aragorn opened the door to let him out; Gandalf gave a few more instructions to Aragorn. "With luck, my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east."

Aragorn nodded and said "Go." Gandalf heaved a sigh and spurred Shadowfax onward and out of the stable, out of Edoras in search of the Rohirrim led by Eomer. Searching for them in order to call them to the aid of their king…hoping that by the time that they arrived, it would not be too late and Helms Deep would not have already fallen to Saruman's armies.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	28. Attack

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

28.

Edoras was emptied a few hours after Gandalf's departure. One long continuous line of people stretching as far as they eye could see, each of them hoping that they would be safe once Helm's Deep was reached. The people had left most of their belongings behind, only taking with them what was necessary for their survival. Theoden turned back once to look upon his city, his now empty city as he led his people across vast open plains to a place he hoped would protect them. We only stopped at night, pushing on while the sun was in the sky, knowing that it was imperative for us to reach Helm's Deep as soon as we could.

Near evening on the first day after leaving Edoras, Eowyn was walking beside Gimli who rode in front of Aragorn and I; he was telling her about dwarves, as she had not encountered others of his kind.

"It's true, you don't see many Dwarf women. And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance…that they are often mistaken for Dwarf men."

Eowyn smiled and looked over her shoulder at Aragorn who mouthed. "It's the beards." He brought his hand to his chin, creating the appearance of a beard as he brought his hand down to his chest.

Gimli was unaware of this and continued speaking. "This, in turn, has given rise to the belief that there are no Dwarf women…and that Dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground, which is, of course, ridiculous." Gimli had leaned too far back in his saddle as he spoke, and his horse took off down the line of people. Gimli toppled off the horse and lay sprawled on the ground.

Eowyn ran forward to assist him. I started to get off my horse to see if my friend was alright, Aragorn placed a hand on my arm and shook his head with a smile. He leaned over and said softly. "He won't appreciate it if more than one person goes to help him, even one is pushing it. Gimli does not like to accept help from others…at least not when it comes to his stature."

I remembered his reaction when Aragorn had attempted to toss him across the gap in Moria, I nodded and remained on my horse, watching Gimli as he assured Eowyn.

"It's all right. Nobody panic. That was deliberate. It was deliberate." The Dwarf struggled to his feet, gruffly thanking Eowyn for her help.

Aragorn was grinning at the Dwarf, as Theoden rode up beside him. Theoden smiled a little as well and said quietly to Aragorn.

"I have not seen my niece smile for a long time. She was a girl when they brought her father back dead. Cut down by orcs. She watched her mother succumb to grief. Then she was left alone, to tend the king in growing fear. Doomed to wait upon an old man who should have loved her as a father."

As Theoden had spoken, Aragorn had stopped smiling and was looking grim once more. I wondered how this king had come to so greatly be able to bring down the mood simply by saying a few words. Was it merely the effect of the dark times which we were living in, or had Theoden always been this way?

Aragorn remained silent, seeming lost in thought, as we continued onward. Only stopping for the evening meal. When we stopped, Legolas took me aside and fixed a piece of cloth to a patch of grass a long way off, Legolas corrected my stance and grip on my bow. Legolas's gentle instruction continued until it was once more time to move on towards Helm's Deep—I was finally able to hit the cloth every time, even if it was not in the center. The act of firing arrow after arrow, of standing erect and narrowing my focus onto that single piece of cloth…had relieved much of the tension which I had not realized I carried. Legolas smiled at me, before he walked away to return to his place among the scouts. I gathered the last of my arrows and the bit of cloth from the ground, then I too returned to my place at Aragorn's side, it was time to begin moving again—we wanted to reach Helm's Deep on the morrow. We spent the first night after leaving Edoras, out in the open, soldiers standing watch throughout the night.

* * *

The next day we continued moving shortly after first light. Aragorn walked his horse beside Eowyn, I walked behind them…giving them enough distance that they could speak without my overhearing what they said. Instead I watched the people around me, looking at the faces—both young and old, which seemed so full of despair. How could an entire people, be so completely devoid of hope, so devoid of joy? The entire land of Rohan seemed filled with melancholy, filled with an impending sense of doom which they did not seem able to shake from themselves.

Legolas stood upon a distant hill, looking around at the land—searching for anything which could bring harm to the people of Edoras. Two scouts rode by on their way to check something, Legolas watched them go, then he leapt down and followed them. We heard roars and a scream from up ahead, then there was a shout of "Wargs!" and everyone came to an abrupt halt. Aragorn ran off after Legolas, I hurried to follow him. We crested the hill just as Legolas finished slitting the throat of an orc, and shouted. " A scout!"

Aragorn did not waste another moment before he turned and began running back towards the line of people. We ran down the hill towards King Theoden, as we reached him he inquired of Aragorn.

"What is it? What do you see?"

Aragorn's shouted reply was met by panic. "Warg! We're under attack!"

The civilians began to panic, looking around at their surroundings and clutching their family to them. Soldiers began turning them around to take another path to Helm's Deep, trying to get them out of here before the Wargs were upon us. Aragorn ran to Eowyn to retrieve his horse, he swung onto it and rode towards the front of the column. Gimli was being assisted by a couple soldiers, he was grumbling and barking at them as they helped him onto his horse.

"Come on. Get me up here. I'm a rider. Come on!"

Legolas motioned for me to follow him, and together we ran ahead of the others to stand upon a slight rise upon the hill. We had our bows ready; all we needed now was a target. And we had them. The Wargs swarmed over the land in front of us, coming over the top of the hill and down the side towards us. Legolas wasted no time in firing arrows at the wargs and their orc riders, I too began firing at them—taking down as many as we could before they reached the others who were not yet ready. In an amazing feat of agility, Legolas grabbed the halter of the steed which Gimli rode, and swung up into the saddle. I stood my ground and fired as many times as I could before I was grabbed around the waist and lifted onto the horse behind Aragorn.

We charged towards the wargs, and I got my first good look at them. They were as large as a horse, they almost looked like wolves, yet there was something off about them…something more vicious than a normal wolf. Their jaws looked strong, strong enough to bite a horse in half with one snap of its long teeth. They smelled more horrible than anything I had smelled before…even more horrible than Moria. The wargs were fast, faster even than the horses were and they had orcs upon their backs. When we collided with the wargs, it was with enough force that I tumbled backwards off the horse and to the ground, narrowly avoiding being trampled by both horses and wargs.

I crawled between the legs of horses, men, orcs, and wargs. Finally reaching a place where I could stand again, once I was on my feet I lost no time in slaying as many orcs as I could with my arrows. As I fired arrows at any orc I saw, I searched for my friends. Legolas was on his horse, shooting down both orcs and wargs, Gimli had fallen from the horse and was dealing death with both hands as he wielded his axes in a dance of death. A warg approached him; Gimli hefted his ax to bring down the warg, only to have it fall dead at his feet with one of Legolas's arrows in its neck. He yelled something at the elf and turned to find another warg about to take a bite out of him, Gimli swung his ax at the warg's neck, bringing it down with one swing. However, a horseman rode by and shoved his spear into the side of the warg, sending it crashing on top of the dwarf and pinning him to the ground.

Aragorn was fighting orcs while on horseback, brandishing his sword and killing with every swipe of his blade. Aragorn saw a warg standing upon the one which pinned Gimli to the ground, he snagged a spear from the ground and threw it at the warg, killing it instantly and it too joined its brother atop the dwarf. Aragorn was thrown off his horse by a warg launching itself at him and knocking him from the saddle, Aragorn fought orcs on foot, slaying the warg who had knocked him from his horse.

I fired a few more arrows at orcs as they ran across the plain to attack the soldiers of Rohan. I saw Aragorn fall from his horse, and I ran towards him.

Suddenly I was flying, flying up off the ground only to come slamming down onto the back of one of the wargs—in front of the orc which rode it, my legs hanging off one side while my head and arms hung off the other. I was held in place by a particularly nasty looking orc who placed a long and oily looking dagger against my throat. I couldn't have made a sound even if I had wanted to, for as I looked around for some way to escape, I saw that the warg ridden orc that Aragorn had been fighting was running forward with Aragorn's arm attached to it. Then he was gone. Gone over the edge of the cliff, with no one but me to see what had happened, and I couldn't do anything, as I was being carried away by another orc. I had promised to protect him and in that one mission I had failed…I had failed to protect the king, failed to protect my friend.

* * *

**No one's POV:**

No one saw the warg bearing Raven, escape from the massacre of its brethren. The elf and dwarf stared down over the edge of the cliff, searching in vain for any sign of their fallen friend. Looks of devastation upon their faces as they were told to leave the dead—leave their fallen friend and comrade behind. It was not until they reached Helm's Deep that they realized that Raven was not their either, and they had not looked for her among the dead. The elf and dwarf felt alone among these humans, they alone were what remained of the Fellowship—two of the hobbits were gone to some unknown place while the other two were on their way to Mordor. Gandalf was out there somewhere, yet they alone remained. Outsiders in this fortress of men, men awaiting the armies of Saruman which were sure to come.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	29. Sorrow

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

29.

The passage of time is an odd thing. My ride upon the warg seemed to take forever, yet at the same time…our destination was reached all too soon. I saw nothing of the terrain which we passed by, for the way which I was positioned made it impossible for me to see anything other than the ground over which we seemed to fly. For once the terrain did not matter to me, the fact that I was being carried away to some unknown destination, did not matter to me. I had failed the king, I had failed Aragorn…he was dead and I had been unable to save him. I had not been there when he needed me, and he had paid the price, he had paid with his life.

The warg came to a halt, and I was thrown backwards off its back before it had fully stopped. I landed hard on the ground, the air fleeing my body, my head hitting the ground with a crack, for a moment I could not see anything but darkness. I had not even caught my breath before the orc grabbed my hair and drug me across the ground, through an archway of black stone, and up a myriad of stairs. My hands tried to pry open the hand around my hair, but to no avail…it was as though I was a single insect trying to move against the flow of a river. The stairs appeared to be winding upwards, turning in circles, always going upward; wherever I had been taken, it seemed to be a very tall building.

I knew that we had reached the end of the stairs when the floor leveled out and was relatively smoother stone. The orc drug me across the floor, through a doorway, and then flung me forward to land in a heap at someone's feet. Feet shod in white, sticking out of the bottom of a white robe which nearly reached the floor. I know now where I have been taken, and who stands before me. The knowledge sends shivers down my spine, fear rising as I stay on the floor at this man's feet. I have been brought to Isengard, I have been brought to the White Wizard…to Saruman.

Saruman did not move, however footsteps approached me from behind…frighteningly familiar footsteps. A hand grabbed my hair—twisting and pulling it to bring my head up and force me up onto my knees, pulling my head until it is at such an angle that I can only look up at the ceiling far above me. I am unable to move anything other than my hands, and I dare not move them; all I can do is stare upwards as a growing fear threatens to consume me. I know this hand that grips my hair, I know it very well. He is here. He has found me, and I have broken so many rules.

His voice is cold, cruel, and mocking…His hand pulling my head even farther back—making my back arch and my throat tight, as he speaks.

"Did you think you were free, Thing? Did you think that you had escaped _me_? Do you actually believe that those people are your "friends", that they actually like _you_? They do not like you, Thing. No one could like or want to be friends with a creature like you…not actual people at least. _You_ are a creature; _you_ are unwanted by all except for Saruman the White." Each question was followed by a harsh slap. I had forgotten how hard He hit me.

I tasted blood where I had bitten my tongue, I could feel the hard stone digging into my knees, and the ache in my spine as I was held back as far as it would allow me to bend without snapping. I deserved this, I deserve all that happens to me now; I broke my promise, the king fell and it was my fault. This is the consequence of my actions. The orc had snatched me up the moment that it was too late to do anything to aid the king, the moment where I could have done something to save him. This is my fate, my punishment for letting him fall. I have no tears left to shed; I shed them all on the back of the warg. I shed them all for the king, for my friend, for Aragorn son of Arathorn.

Saruman appears above me, his eyes full of contempt and triumph as he looks at me. His hand reaches out and caresses my face. His long fingers tracing down my face, over my lips, down my neck to my collarbone. The wizard leers at me, his fingers long fingers circling my neck and squeezing tightly. Saruman jerks me upright by my neck—making me gasp and choke for air—he brings his staff up and presses it to my forehead. Something changes when his staff touches me; I forgot happiness, I forgot hope, I forgot songs, stories, joy, flowers, I did not forget fear or sadness. Saruman's staff left me feeling empty. Saruman releases my neck and thrusts me backwards onto the floor. His foot comes down on my head, pinning me to the floor, and Saruman speaks in his deep commanding voice, devoid of all pity and frighteningly cold.

"She will be perfect. You have done well, Narcomus. Take her to the dungeon and have her marked. I must speak to Wormtongue."

He kicked me in the side to get me to my feet; he grabbed my shoulder and began steering me back down the stairs. I kept my head down and my eyes on my feet, stumbling every few steps when He shoved me, He led me down and farther down, to a place that I am sure that I will not be leaving any time soon.

* * *

**Aragorn's POV:**

I am unsure for how long I lay on the banks of the river, unsure how long it was before Brego found me and I managed to pull myself into the saddle. I was unsteady in the saddle, yet Brego did not let me fall. He seemed to sense that I was not as strong as I had been before, for he did not walk very fast across the plains. The pace was steady, and hopefully in the right direction to reach Helm's Deep. I moved in and out of consciousness as I rode across the plains of Rohan, I desperately need rest, yet I cannot stop for it until I reach Helm's Deep.

I came up over a hill and instantly backed behind an outcropping of rock. There in the distance was an army of Uruk-hai. There were far too many to count, yet the number had to be at least 10,000. I had to hurry now, there was no possible way that Theoden was prepared for an attack of this size; I spurred Brego onwards, it was now imperative that I reach Helm's Deep before this army. I had to give the others enough of a warning that they could prepare as much as they could.

The sun set and rose again, still I rode on…attempting to speed up without falling off of Brego. How far had I floated down river, it surely must have been many leagues if Helm's Deep was so far away. The great fortress of Rohan, came into view late that day, it was a great relief to see the place where my friends were. Soon I would see them again, and assuage their fears that I was dead. Brego cantered up the causeway, and through the gates, the people inside parted for me—all of them staring at the dead man who had returned. I dismounted in a courtyard, hearing shouts from a certain Dwarf as he pushed his way through the crowd of people to reach me.

"Where is he? Where is he? Get out of my way! I'm going to kill him!" Gimli stepped up to me and instead of killing me, he began shouting in his joy that I was alive. "You are the luckiest, the canniest…and the most reckless man I ever knew." Then the dwarf hugged me. I was rather startled by this; however I hugged him back nonetheless, glad that he was safe as well. Gimli said an almost tearful "Bless you, laddie."

I pulled back and asked with no small amount of urgency. "Gimli, where is the king?"

He nodded towards a hall and I made my way through the crowd towards it. I had to speak to the king, to tell him of the host of Uruk-hai coming this way, and then I had to see Legolas and Raven…I had to make sure that they were safe as well. I was stopped just outside the doors to the hall, by a certain blond elf who looked at me briefly before speaking in Elvish, saying matter-of-factly.

"_You're late_." Then he took a closer look and switched to common tongue. "You look terrible."

I had to chuckle at the way he stated this rather obvious fact. Since I knew he was alright, I had to know about Raven.

"Legolas, where is Raven?" The elf looked away—grief passing over his face, before he replied with sadness.

"She is numbered among the dead of the warg attack. I am sorry, Aragorn. We have lost another of our company."

For a moment I could not move, I could hardly breathe…I could only stare at Legolas in disbelief. Yes his eyes were filled with sorrow, and I knew he had no doubt of her fate. I clasped his shoulder briefly, then I strode forward and pushed open both doors to the hall where Theoden was speaking to his soldiers. I would help the people of Rohan battle the forces of Saruman, I would help them be free of this terror. I would fight for freedom, I would fight for Men, and I would fight for Raven.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	30. A bellow in the night

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

30.

**Aragorn's POV:**

I knew what she was in Bree, and it made my blood boil to see that…man, had done and was doing to her. Even though it had not been part of the plan, I had to take her away from such a person; there was no question of leaving her with someone who was closer to an orc than a man. She had been so afraid, yet so full of wonder at the world around her as we journeyed to Rivendell; her innocence was refreshing. She had become friends with the hobbits rather quickly. I had become protective of her from the moment I released her from the post outside of the inn and brought her inside. If anything I had become more protective of her by the time Rivendell was reached.

She had seemed uncomfortable around the Elves, preferring to spend her time with the hobbits and Gandalf. Once the Elves had heard her story, Elrond could not restrain their anger. A contingent of Elves set out that very day to find this man and put an end to him, I wanted to go with them however, I was needed for the council. We left Rivendell before the Elves returned.

Legolas taught her how to use the bow, and it was concerning that she was so bad with one. She did not improve quickly either, it took until Rohan before she could hit near the center of her target every time. After Boromir had carried her to camp, I began to notice the way he looked at her, the way he watched her. Yet it was not until Moria that I realized his glances were more than that. It was not until bruises appeared on her face and wrists, that I knew something was not right with the man from Gondor. I grew more watchful of her, noticing how Boromir's hands lingered whenever he touched her, how his gaze had become hungry as he watched her…I had also noticed how she tried to avoid him. When we reached Lothlorien, I noticed the tense way the Elves watched them both—the looks of anger and indignation on their faces, it actually surprised me when Haldir let us enter the Golden Wood. Boromir's denial of what he had done to Raven irked me. I had wanted to question him again the following evening, yet I didn't get the chance. Boromir died before I could, yet he had admitted to what he had done and begged for forgiveness; Raven gave it instantly, though I knew she did not understand why she needed to give it. I could not even take the time to help her see that what he had done was wrong; I barely took the time to make sure she was alright. Legolas had been far angrier than I had ever seen him, and it had taken two of the three days of running, for him to calm down enough to talk to.

I watched her as closely as I could as we ran after the Uruk-hai, I had to talk to her about what happened and it would have to be soon. It was when Eomer spoke to her and called her a whore, that I realized that perhaps my protectiveness was more than that. While Legolas wanted to tear Eomer to pieces, and Gimli was growling threats at the man, I wanted to take off his hand that had touched her and then give him to a passing orc. I felt more for her than I had thought.

She had seemed different in Fangorn, more like what she should have been. Legolas told me of her apparent connection to the trees of the forest, that something had shifted inside her and she had begun to emit light. It had only been for the briefest of moments, but we had seen what she could be…what she should have been all along. What the man in Bree had taken from her.

In Edoras when she had stood there on the ledge with the wind blowing her hair out behind her like a banner, she looked so peaceful…so happy that I knew I would do what I could to ensure her happiness. The smile of pure joy lit up her face, her strange eyes sparkled with far more life than they had held when I had first seen her in Bree. They had been nearly lifeless eyes then, full of fear and pain. She was so unlike others of her kind, yet I knew that she was one of them…one of the fair folk. Raven had come so far in the few months of freedom that she had, come so far only to be killed in a surprise raid by wargs and their riders.

I shook myself and stepped away from the wall. It was time to go down to the armory to inspect the weapons for the unfortunate souls of those who were unaccustomed to fighting, yet would have to before this night was through. It was time to don armor, it was time to make a stand, it was time to fight.

* * *

**Raven:**

I am not sure how long I have been in Isengard. How long I have been in complete darkness, how long I have been in the cold and dirt of the dungeon cell I have been placed in. My arms are sore, my wrists shackled to the wall above my head. He has been here many times, always leaving only after he is summoned back to Saruman's side—always leaving me with more bruises and bleeding places than before. My shoulder was in agony, burning pain lancing up and down my body, radiating from the mark of a hand, burned into my shoulder.

The only thing I can remember ever hurting this much, is the scar running from the back of my neck, over my shoulder and down to just below my collarbone. The wound caused by His angry stabbing into my neck. I can still feel the terror of that moment; see the anger and hatred in His eyes, feel the jagged blade of the knife cutting into me as He threatened to cut my throat open for my disobedience. That was the day I learned not to scream, not to make a sound when He hurt me. Every time I screamed, He would drag the knife farther along my neck and shoulder. I know that there is a forest nearby; I caught a glimpse of it when the orc drug me into this tower, yet I cannot hear the song of the trees. There is no light, no warmth, and no song in this place. There is nothing but pain, darkness, and frigid cold.

When I was brought here, my dress was taken from me; I was given a dress of tattered rags instead. He always releases me from the shackles and sends me sprawling to the floor; He always makes me rub dirt into my skin. He tells me that Saruman has plans for me, yet He will not say what they are. I try to protect myself as much as I can when He comes, this only seems to make Him hit harder…is there a point to protecting myself here?

Sometime after He visits again—kicking my side until I cough up blood and stomping on my spine—there is a sound unlike anything I have heard before. A bellow that resonates though me, it vibrates the tower. The sound is frightening and haunting; it is filled with anger and loss. Shortly after the strange sound, there are tremors in the earth, the tower shakes and more loud bellowing is heard from somewhere outside the walls of this dark tower.

There is something out there, something huge and powerful. Whatever it was, was attacking the tower of Isengard. I know I should be afraid, yet all I can feel is hope. Hope that the tower will be destroyed, the wizard will fall, and the evil of this place will vanish from the rest of the earth.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	31. Death and glory

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

31.

**Aragorn:**

Elves had arrived from Lotlorien to aid us in our battle against the Uruk-hai army of Saruman. Lady Galadriel had sent a host of archers to rekindle the alliance between men and elves; Theoden had been surprised beyond words save those of welcome. The Uruks were filling in the valley before us, cutting off any chance of escape by any means other than the tunnels under the fortress and through the mountain. When I had first told Theoden about the army marching towards them, he had not seemed to fully comprehend the situation. He had been speaking with Gamling when I entered the hall where he sat upon a throne; they had looked at me in astonishment which quickly fled when I told them of the army headed this way.

"A great host, you say?" Was the first thing that Theoden asked.

"All Isengard is emptied."

"How many?"

"Ten thousand strong at least." there was no point in trying to reassure the king that this threat was minimal, it was very real and very large.

"Ten thousand?" Theoden repeated, disbelief in his nearly whispered words. No doubt hoping that he had misheard me.

"It is an army bred for a single purpose." Theoden walked towards me, wondering what this purpose could be, and so I told him. "To destroy the world of Men." Theoden's face fell, he seemed drained…weary beyond belief, yet the battle had not even started. "They will be here by nightfall."

"Let them come!" The king said as he walked purposefully down the hall and out the doors. Legolas, Gimli, and I followed him.

How could I be so calm about this, so calm about a battle which none of us may come out of alive? After a moment's contemplation as we followed Theoden over the walls to fortify battlements, I realized that I was not calm. I was numb. I was beyond feeling to the point that I no longer could. This was not the best way, or even a wise way to go into battle. As much as I did not want to, I had to push aside my feelings guilt and grief for Raven; I would have to deal with them later. In place of my grief, there formed a steely determination, a determination to take down every Uruk that crossed my path—tonight I would become unstoppable.

* * *

Theoden had ordered that every lad and man strong enough to bear arms to do so, to fight for their lives, their freedom, their families, their homes, and their king. He was going to let _children_ fight the Uruk-hai, children who were not ready to fight beings from the darkest nightmare. I doubted that even Theoden was ready to fight such creatures, for I could not help but doubt him when Gimli attempted to warn him that these were not ordinary orcs.

"We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall…or set foot inside the Hornburg!" Theoden had proudly stated as he gave instructions to the soldiers.

"This is no rabble of mindless Orcs. These are Uruk-hai. Their armour is thick and their shields broad." Gimli growled in warning to the king of Rohan. Theoden had approached the dwarf and talked down to him, nearly as one would to a child.

"I have fought in many wars, Master Dwarf. I know how to defend my own keep." Theoden stormed back through the gates and Gimli wisely held his tongue.

* * *

I stand now before the archers of Lothlorien, gazing out at the enemy as it fills the valley before Helm's Deep, they hold torches to see as they march forward. There is no end visible to the line or torches—the line of Uruks advancing upon us. A tense silence descends upon us all. I approach Legolas and Gimli as they stand at the edge of the wall looking out at the approaching army, Gimli glances at me over his shoulder and says gruffly.

"Well, lad, whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night."

Lightening lights up the terrain and the Uruk-hai, thunder booms almost instantly—there will be a storm this night. Legolas speaks as confidently as he can.

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn."

"Let's hope they last the night." Muttered Gimli, as he tried in vain to see over the wall.

I clap them both on the shoulder and leave them to stand in front of the Elven archers, ready to give the command to fire at any instant. I pace between the ranks of the archers, giving them instructions in Elvish.

"_Show them no mercy, for you will receive none! _

The sound of thunder is the only one heard as we stand upon the wall, awaiting what most think will be our doom. Rain falls, and the sound of the drops hitting armor is added to the unnatural stillness.

The tense silence is shattered when the Uruks begin slamming their shields and weapons together, sending an intimidating cacophony of sound over the walls and into the already fearful hearts of Men. I unsheathe my sword and prepare for battle. An arrow is shot into the ranks of the Uruk-hai, striking one in the neck and killing it instantly. The Uruk fell forward—shoving the arrow through the back of its head when it fell upon its face.

I shout "Hold!" but that one arrow has begun the battle, we struck first and now the Uruks are angry; they run at the walls and I give the command to fire.

"_Prepare to fire!" _Every Elf upon the wall draws their bow in unison and takes aim at the horde of Uruks charging towards us. I held my arm over my head and yell so all can hear me. "Release arrows!" I let my arm fall as the arrows are released, dealing death where they strike.

The first wave of Uruks drop to the ground and another wave steps forward to instantly replace them. I give the order to fire again and again, felling more of the charging Uruk-hai, but it is not enough. The Uruks fire great bolts from their crossbows, striking many who stand upon the Deeping Wall; I know then that many will die this night, both Elves and Men alike. It will be worth their sacrifice if we can stop Sauron and Saurman, it will be worth it if Frodo succeeds in destroying the Ring. So much death…so much sorrow, it will all be worth it.

**Dawn**

The sun rose over the last vestiges of the armies of Rohan and Saruman, the last of the seemingly endless army of Uruk-hai finally finding its way into the valley. We had retreated into one of the many halls of the fortress—many feeling that there was no hope and we would soon join our fallen brethren in death. As the sun shone through the windows of Helm's Deep, I remembered what Gandalf had said, and I turned to Theoden to give one last bit of hope to the king of Rohan.

"Ride out with me." Theoden looked at me as though he thought me mad. "Ride out and meet them."

"For death and glory?" queried the king as he moved towards me. Why was Theoden obsessed with death, surely it was better to live than to die? I shook my head and said quietly.

"For Rohan. For your people."

"The sun is rising." Muttered Gimli.

Theoden looked towards the light, determination growing inside him. "Yes. Yes. The horn of Helm Hammerhand, shall sound in the Deep…one last time."

"YES!" the dwarf shouted, and then he took off running towards the horn. The deep tones resonating through the fortress and valley, an ominous note of death sounding from the horn.

Theoden placed his hand upon my shoulder and spoke. "Let this be the hour when we draw swords together." I nod and all those who are able, mount horses and wait for the Uruks to finish breaking down t door. "Fell deeds awake. Now for wrath…now for ruin and a red dawn."

We rode forward into the stream of Uruk-hai, our swords drawn and held at the ready; any Uruk in our path was cut down as we charged through the doors and back over the causeway. The Uruks were slaughtered left and right, thrown off the causeway and into the deep gorge below, we charged forward and I caught sight of a lone rider atop the rise before us. Gandalf had come, and he was not alone.

There was a cry of "Rohirrim!" and Eomer charged down the hill, leading those who had remained faithful to the king and were banished. They were blinded by the brightness of Gandalf's staff and robes. The Rohirrim moved through them as a fish moves through water—they cut through the Uruks with ease and they were not halted by anything. The Uruks could not fight against the onslaught of horses and their riders, one by one they all fell beneath sword and hooves. We had won. Saruman had sent his entire army of Uruk-hai and we had beaten them.

* * *

**Raven:**

Tremors shook the tower for an undeterminable span of time. Water seeped down through the earth and stone, into my cell; soon there was a pool on one side and it was quickly spreading to the rest of the room. I could hear roars and great thuds coming from somewhere above me. I could hear the faint song of trees, yet it was unfamiliar to me. It sounded like the song of Fangorn, but different in a way that made it barely recognizable. This song was not the same as the one in Fangorn, it was dark and more full of anger than Fangorn had been, this song was filled with violence and hatred. I had never felt such strong emotions before, nor had I known that trees could be so angry. Shivers travelled down my spine as I listened to the anger and violent song of the trees.

The song was hard to hear through the stone walls of Saruman's tower, and it was hard to concentrate through the throbbing pain in my side. My shackles had been removed in favor of a chain around my neck and hooked high in the wall behind me. I had tried to speak into the darkness, to lessen the oppressing dark that pressed in on all sides, however when I had tried I had been unable to make a sound.

The pain in my shoulder was slowly becoming bearable—I could move my arm now, though it was becoming bearable, I felt blood running down my arm from my shoulder. My fingers moved over the bruised skin over my ribs and stomach, the little weight I had put on in in Rivendell and Lothlorien, now completely gone. I counted each rib, each notch in my spine, and every dent in my legs. I had tried to walk yesterday—at least I think it was yesterday—and I had been unable to put any weight on my left leg.

I curled up in a ball in the corner of my cell, covering my head with my arms as dirt and stone fell from the ceiling, crashing down into my cell—more falling with each tremor that shook the tower. It felt as though the tower was coming down, something was damaging the tower and making it crumble. Hopefully this meant that the evil tower of Saruman was coming down, and his reign of darkness over the lands of Rohan was at an end.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	32. The fall of a wizard

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

32.

The water was rising. I hadn't thought that it could get colder in here; apparently it could when water had seeped through the earth and was ankle deep. I could feel myself sinking as the dirt turned to mud and gave way beneath me. The thuds and tremors which had shaken the tower for hours, had finally subsided—though stone still occasionally fell from the ceiling into my cell, and there was a deathly stillness upon this place.

It is awhile before I heard the sound of feet running coming down the stairs—running feet and a light shining through the gloom and bars in the door of my cell. Laughter joins the sound of rapid footfalls; soon I can hear the words which a joyously familiar voice says…one I had thought that I would never hear again.

"Do you think that there will be any more pipe weed down here, Pippin?"

"No idea, Merry. But perhaps there will be some more barrels of salted pork; we can always use more of that as well as the Old Toby."

"Right you are, Pip."

The two Hobbits walked into sight, Merry peered into my cell—glancing into the corners before looking down and saying.

"Let me down Pip, this one is empty. Let's try another…there has to be something down here. Who builds an entire floor and puts nothing in it?"

They walked further down the passageway, talking about what they hoped to find, and whether it would offend someone called "Treebeard", if they smoked their pipe weed. I crawled forward as fast as I could—dragging my left leg behind me, I am only able to go half-way to the door before the chain attached to the collar around my neck, goes taught and stops me from going any farther. I tried to speak, to call out to them, but my voice wouldn't work. Merry had not seen me; he did not know I was here. I strained against the chain which restrained me, giving up when it cut off the air to my lungs. I would try to get their attention when they came back this way…they had to come back didn't they, or was there another way out of this foul place?

They did not come back this way. They had been so close, yet they had not seen me. Why hadn't they seen me, was it too dark for me to be seen among the fallen stone and water? Perhaps I was not really here, only a wisp of whatever I had been, nothing of substance and unable to be seen by any who walked this earth.

* * *

**Aragorn:**

We rode through some of the darkest trees I had ever seen, I did not think that Fangorn had been this gloomy when we had passed through it a few weeks ago. Gandalf led the way through the forest and into Isengard, we had a wizard to deal with, and it would not be easy. There was the sound of laughter up ahead. It was such an odd sound to hear in the forest, and so near Isengard, that it took a moment for the sound to sink in.

We came through the last of the trees to see that the wall surrounding Isengard had been broken, and Isengard itself had been flooded. There appeared to be trees standing alone in the midst of the water, as though they were guarding the tower known as Orthanc. Something strange had happened here, and it appeared to have happened recently. Abruptly the laughter changed from purely joyful, to one of excitement. There, seated upon the rubble, were Merry and Pippin. The two hobbits we had searched all over Rohan for, were in Isengard smoking their pipes and laughing. Merry got to is feet and said grandly.

"Welcome, my lords…to Isengard!" He gestured behind him to the flooded landscape and the tower standing alone in the center of a lake.

We brought our horses to a halt—I could not help but smile at the hobbits, glad to have found them safe after chasing the Uruks in search of them. Gimli wasted no time in shouting gruffly at the two of them.

"You young rascals! A merry hunt you've led us on and now we find you feasting and…and smoking!"

"We are sitting on a field of victory…enjoying a few well-earned comforts." Pippin stated—not bothered in the least by the Dwarf's statement. Merry leaned forward and blew smoke from his mouth in great billowing clouds. Pippin continued. "The salted pork is particularly good."

Gimli calmed down and said hungrily. "Salted pork?"

Gandalf muttered something to himself and shook his head at the hobbits. Merry piped up and said rather importantly.

"We're under orders from Treebeard…who's taken over management of Isengard." Merry looked at each of us with a large smile upon his face, then his face fell slightly and he asked uncertainly. "Where is Raven?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I was able to tell them, however just as I opened my mouth, Legolas beat me to it. His voice full of sorrow when he told the hobbits what had happened.

"She fell during an ambush by warg riders." Merry and Pippin's faces lost all semblance of joy. A single tear fell down Merry's cheek and Pippin extinguished his pipe.

We gave them a few moments to grieve—something we had not had much time to do yet, then we put them on the backs of two of the horses and rode into the flooded land of Isengard. Having Pippin on the back of my horse reminded me of the warg attack. Raven had been on the back of my horse then, she had gotten thrown off when he collided…had she been trampled right then, or had she been killed later? I shook myself to return to the present, to see a tree walking up to Gandalf and actually speaking.

"Young Master Gandalf. I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master. But there is a wizard to manage here…locked in his tower."

There was no visible sign of Saruman, no sign of the wizard who had caused so much death and destruction. Gandalf searched the tower's surface as well as the top, searching for the man who was once his trusted friend. He never took his eyes from the tower as he gave careful instructions to us all.

"Be careful. Even in defeat, Saurman is dangerous."

"Well, let's just have his head and be done with it." growled Gimli, voicing the opinion of many in our company…though apparently not Gandalf's.

"No." He said sternly, glaring at the dwarf who rode behind Legolas. "We need him alive. We need him to talk."

Out of the uncomfortable stillness which followed his words, there came a deep and powerful voice resonating from somewhere above. All of us looked to the top of the tower and saw Saruman standing there, looking down at us in obvious disdain.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Theoden King…and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

Theoden looked thoughtful as he replied to the wizard. "We shall have peace." Those simple words, brought disbelief and worry into the hearts of many; Theoden seemed to be falling once more under the spell of the White Wizard. Then the king spoke with anger and the worry was banished from our minds. "We shall have peace…when _you_ answer for the burning of the Westfold…and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows…we shall have peace."

I could not have said it any better, I would have added a few more crimes against the wizard, yet I do not think that I could have controlled my anger as well as Theoden had against this man who had done so much against the people of Middle-Earth. Saruman's voice lost its conciliatory tone, becoming angry and condescending.

"Gibbets and crows? Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess. The Key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the Keys to Barad-dur itself…along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"

Gandalf replied to the wizard's rant with calm words. "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel."

Even from the bottom of Orthanc, we could see Saruman's amusement with Gandalf's purpose for speaking to him. "So you have come here for information. I have some for you." His face became almost demonic as he pulled a dark sphere from somewhere in his robes, he held it out towards Gandalf.

Gandalf instantly became more wary of both Saruman and the sphere. Saruman turned the sphere and spoke for all to hear.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You're all going to die." Gandalf urged Shadowfax onward, approaching the base of the tower as Saruman spoke his words of doom upon us all. "But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king."

I glared up at this wizard who thought he could doom us all simply with words, sowing doubt into our hearts. Even now, Saruman was not finished speaking to us of our eminent failure and destruction.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him…those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling…before you sent him to his doom? The path that you set him on can only lead to death."

Gimli's angry words stopped Saruman from saying anything more. "I've heard enough! Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob."

Legolas gladly reached for an arrow, only to be stopped by Gandalf's stern "No." Gandalf looked back up at Saruman, trying once more to bring the wizard to our side and away from Sauron.

"Come down, Saruman…and your life will be spared."

"Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!" Saruman raised his staff and cast a fireball at Gandalf, engulfing him and Shadowfax in flame.

The heat was intense. The horses wanted to bolt, yet we kept them in place. We could not see Gandalf through the flames that surrounded him, then they dissipated and neither of them were injured in any way. Gandalf had not taken his gaze from Saruman, and when he next spoke it was in a commanding voice.

"Saruman, your staff is broken." The moment that those words were uttered, Saruman's staff shattered in his hand.

The pieces falling from the tower and into the water below. Saruman glared down at Gandalf, in both fear and anger. From behind him approached two men, both of whom I recognized instantly. Fury filled me, I could not take my gaze from the man who had done so many horrible things to Raven, the man who should have been dead somewhere having been cut down by the Elven hunting party. Theoden's voice brought my attention back to what was going on rather than picturing ways to kill this man who stood beside Saruman.

"Grima, you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a Man of Rohan. Come down." Wormtongue bowed and started to retreat back down the tower to return to Theoden's side. However, Saruman's words stopped him before he made it from our sight.

"A Man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek…and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Theoden Horse-master. You are a lesser son of greater sires."

Theoden's visage went through a rapid change in expressions, from anger and indignation, to outward calm and pleading. "Grima…come down. Be free of him."

"Free? He will never be free." Saruman yelled angrily, disdain evident in every syllable he uttered.

"No." Wormtongue nearly whispered. Saruman turned to the man and commanded in a hard voce accompanied by a blow.

"Get down, cur!"

Wormtongue fell to the ground behind the wizard. Gandalf reproached the wizard loudly.

"Saruman! You were deep in the enemy's counsel, tell us what you know." Saruman turned back to speak to Gandalf.

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here." He never got the chance to say anything else, for Wormtongue rushed up to him and stabbed him twice in the back.

Legolas drew his bow and fired at Wormtongue, sending him backwards to land on the top of the tower with an arrow in his stomach. Saruman fell down the side of the tower, his robes swirling around him. He fell until he landed upon a great spiked wheel which had been resting near the base, Saruman was skewered by one of the spikes and the weight of his body caused the wheel to turn until he was underwater. I had taken my eyes from the man, as Saruman fell, and he had vanished from the tower. I would have to search the tower for him, I would not let him escape unscathed from me again.

I glanced at Merry and my heart fell to see him covering his mouth in shock and horror at the death of Saruman. I had forgotten how innocent the Hobbits were, and it pained me to have them see such gruesome things, but such was our world. We were fighting for a better one, one where such things would not have to be seen by those who were unscathed by the horrid scenes of war and death. Gandalf could not take his eyes from the body of his former comrade; he spoke without removing his gaze from the grizzly sight before us.

"Send word to all our allies…and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

Treebeard—who had been all but forgotten while we spoke to Saruman—said matter-of-factly.

"The filth of Saruman…is washing away. Trees will come back to live here. Young trees. Wild trees."

Pippin leapt off the back of Brego and into the water, he waded towards something. I called out to him, trying to get him to come back. "Pippin!"

He reached down into the water and picked something up; he stood there gazing at whatever he held in his hands. Gandalf urged Shadowfax alongside the Hobbit as Treebeard exclaimed in amazement.

"Bless my bark!"

"Peregrin Took! I'll take that, my lad." Gandalf reached out for the sphere which Saruman had held atop the tower of Orthanc, Pippin looked as though he did not want to hand it over. "Quickly, now." Pippin reluctantly handed it to the wizard, who wrapped it in the folds of his robes and moved away from the Hobbit.

Gandalf turned to leave Isengard, to leave the wretched tower and its last inhabitant and return to Edoras. Before I could say anything, Merry spoke almost uncertainly.

"Gandalf, me and Pippin were exploring the bottom of Saruman's tower earlier. There are cells at the bottom of some stairs; shouldn't we free the prisoners before we leave? We can't just leave them here." The Hobbit looked at Gandalf with such pleading that only the Dark Lord himself would have had a difficult time resisting him.

Gandalf acquiesced and let the two Hobbits, Legolas, Gimli, and I enter the tower of Orthanc in search of any prisoners who were trapped here. Though we searched the entire tower, the man from Bree was nowhere to be found. We found nearly twenty prisoners in the dungeons of Orthanc, not all could make it out unassisted and had to be carried out by either Legolas, the soldiers of Theodred or myself.

There was one cell which appeared empty save for fallen stone and water, yet something pushed me forward and I unlocked the door. Legolas entered behind me, his bow ready in case an orc was in here; there was movement in a corner of the room. I lifted the torch I held in my hand and moved carefully through the water towards whatever had moved; I nearly dropped the torch when it illuminated the figure huddled in the corner of the cell. Legolas had frozen mid-stride behind me, no doubt as shocked as I was. For, there in the corner—dressed in rags, covered in blood and dirt, with a chain around her neck—was Raven.

* * *

**Raven:**

I know now what I am. I remember living deep in a forest before I was captured and brought here, brought before Saruman and he made me forget everything. I am of Fangorn, I am something unique and something that Saruman strove to keep hidden until he could use me for something of his own design. I am an Elf born of a tree. I was sung from the deep parts of the forest, from the very heart of one of the oldest trees in Fangorn. That is why I can hear and understand the trees as they speak and sing to each other and all who will listen, they are my siblings, my family.

I do not know why I suddenly know what I am; only that i now have this knowledge which has been kept from me.

I heard the voices of several people travelling up and down the passageway, none stopped long enough to hear the sounds of stones hitting the door or the water moving about as I tried to let someone know that I was here. I know not why no one heard me.

My cell door swings open and a person bearing a torch enters the room, I shift slightly to attempt to stand and move towards whoever it is. There is a gasp and the figure rushes towards me. My eyes widen as the person gets close enough to let me see their face in this oppressive darkness; I cannot move, I can only stare in disbelief at the face of the king, the face of my friend, the face of Aragorn. He was alive, he was alive and here.

Tears fall down my cheeks; he touches my face with his hand—his eyes searching and filled with joy. He seems as surprised to see me as I am to see him. Legolas appears beside him, his hand reaching to touch me—as though to see if I am real. Aragorn takes a ring of keys from his belt and unlocks the collar around my neck. Legolas smiles at me, gently taking my hand and squeezing it. Aragorn puts his arms around me and lifts me off the floor of my cell, he frowns slightly then he carries me out of the cell, up the stairs and out into the sunlight.

I cover my eyes against the brightness of the sun, and hear startled gasps from all around me. My head is filled with the return of the song of Fangorn, I hear there joy, their smugness, their somewhat abated anger. There song so much louder outside the thick stone walls of the tower, I hear murmuring from the others, yet I cannot make out words. Aragorn lifts me up onto the back of his horse and gets on behind me. Slowly I lower my hand and look around at Isengard.

Great trees stand alone in the midst of a lake which surrounds the black tower. Debris floats everywhere, great heaps of rubble and fallen stone litter the ground; the trees move through the water towards the forest. They aren't trees, these are the Ents. The guardians and shepherds of the forest. I understand then, understand that it was the Ents who made the tower tremble and begin to crumble; the forest had attacked and its retribution was now carried out.

Merry and Pippin were smiling at me, nearly bursting with joy as they sat upon horses behind the soldiers of Theoden. Gandalf sat regally upon Shadowfax, looking quite surprised and pleased to see me. Gimli and Legolas stared at me in disbelief, happiness spreading through the air as we were reunited with one another. Gandalf turned and spurred Shadowfax onwards, leading us out of Isengard through the large hole in one if the surrounding walls.

Aragorn kept his arms securely around me the entire ride to Edoras.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.**


	33. Feast and stars

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

33.

**Aragorn:**

I held Raven in my arms all the way to Edoras. It was hard to believe that she was alive—not only because we thought she had died in the warg attack, but because she had been trapped inside Orthanc and from the brief look I'd had of her injuries, I knew that some were severe. When I had picked her up from the floor, she weighed next to nothing in my arms and I could not suppress a frown.

During the ride to Edoras, I had time to study her more closely. It was a good thing that Saruman was already dead, or else Legolas, Gimli, and I would have killed him many times over for what he has done to her. Once the man who is more like an orc is found, the three of us will make sure that he regrets ever laying a hand on her.

I looked down at her quite often during the journey to Edoras, noticing the fresh bruises and how the scar over her shoulder stood out even more than it already had. And then there was the mark on the back of her shoulder, the mark that I had nearly missed when I lifted her onto Brego, the mark of the hand of Saruman…burned into her flesh. One glance at Legolas and Gimli, told me that they had seen it as well; it was doubly a good thing that the wizard was already dead.

Upon reaching Edoras and dismounting at the foot of the stair case leading up to the Golden Hall, Theoden ordered everyone to bathe and change before the feast which had been prepared for our arrival. I gently set Raven upon her feet once we reached the top of the stairs, then a maid came forward and requested that Raven go with her in order to get her cleaned up and dressed for the feast. Raven looked up at me—her large blue-green eyes pleading, she no more wanted to leave my side than I wanted to let her go. I lifted my hand to her face and gently brushed her cheek with the back of my fingers; I pressed my lips to her forehead and promised her that I would see her as soon as she was ready. She stared at me with those large-soulful eyes for a long moment, then she curtsied and went with the maid to get ready.

I watched her go before I too went off to the baths and to change out of the same clothes which I had worn in battle. I had to hurry a little faster than I normally would have, if I was to be waiting when Raven was ready.

**Raven:**

The woman I followed led me to a room where a tub of hot water awaited me. It felt wonderful to wash off the layers of mud, grime, and blood; leaving me clean once more. After I had bathed, Lady Eowyn entered to help me get into a suitable dress for the feast which was being thrown both in honor of those who had died, as well as those who had survived.

A dress of light blue was chosen for me, and I got into it without protest—biting my tongue as I moved my shoulder to get my arm into the dress. Lady Eowyn had just finished with my hair when there was a knock at the door. The woman, who was Eowyn's maid, opened the door to find Gandalf standing there with a serious look on his face. He stepped into the room, and stopped a few steps in front of me. Gandalf reached into his robe and pulled out a circlet of silver adorned with vines weaving and leaves weaving on and out of the silver. He held it delicately in his hands and said solemnly.

"This was given to me by Lady Galadriel; she had some of her finest craftsmen create it. The time seemed right to give it to you now." Gandalf then set the circlet upon my head, adjusting it to let it rest upon my brow, before he stepped back and looked at me.

Gandalf's gaze was on me for a long moment, then he inclined his head to me and left. Leaving me confused and more than a little startled at his actions; Lady Eowyn arranged my hair around the circlet and then she left as well. I took a deep shaky breath, and then I too leave the room to find Aragorn waiting for me outside the door. Aragorn stares at me for a moment before he smiles at me, takes my hand, and leads me to the Hall were the feast is being held.

Aragorn stayed near me all through the feast, and I did not stray from his. I had received many stares upon entering the Hall, I was uncomfortable in this dress and even more so wearing the circlet, yet I could not refuse such a gift. I tried not to let the stares bother me, instead focusing on the various members of the Fellowship spread out across the room. Legolas and Gimli had stayed near me for a long while, both filled with joy that I was alive. They had stayed until Gimli had drug Legolas over to a table and engaged him in a drinking game; the men of Rohan were placing bets on the victor.

Merry and Pippin were drinking, singing songs, and dancing upon a table, much to the amusement of its occupants. Gandalf would occasionally look over at me with a sorrowful expression, as though he either saw or knew something which no one else could and it caused him grief. Aragorn kept looking at me with anger, sorrow, and happiness. I know why he looks at me this way, and now I can better understand why my being intentionally harmed by someone, upsets him…upsets all of them. I do not understand fully, but now I at least understand that it is not right for someone to injure another person so badly.

Most of the men at the feast were drunk before more than an hour had passed. Gimli passed out under the table, while Legolas appeared to be barely affected by the large amount of ale he had consumed; he seemed more concerned than anything else. The Hobbits were having a drinking contest with each other, and it seemed that Pippin would be the victor. Beside me, Aragorn got to his feet and headed outside. I quickly stood and followed him, I would not let him out of my sight…I would not let something happen to him because of my error again. Aragorn gazed up at the stars, watching them dance and speak to one another in the blackness of the night sky. I approached slowly, unsure whether he wanted to be alone or not. When I reached his side, he said softly.

"When Legolas told me that you were dead, I realized that I felt more than simply protective of you. I care for you, Raven. I do not know if you know what that means, or even if you feel anything beyond loyalty for me. I do know that I do not ever want to go through something like that again; I want you to be safe and happy." Aragorn turned to face me, and I could not bring myself to look away from him. His next words making my breath speed up. "I love you, Raven."

I looked up at him, at the uncertainty in his eyes and at the truthfulness of his emotions and words there. I found myself smiling as I finally found my voice and answered him quietly.

"I do not know much about love, but I do know that I feel far more than merely loyalty for you. I felt as though a part of me died with you when you fell from the cliff, and it felt as though that same part came alive again when I saw you in my cell. I feel about you the way that the trees feel about rain and sunlight, how birds feel when they sing. I love you as well, Aragorn."

Aragorn smiled as I spoke, then he leaned towards me and pressed his lips gently to mine. There underneath the stars of Rohan, in a city upon a lone hill in a vast plain, Aragorn son of Arathorn; kissed me. And it created a song of its own, a song of love and joy, a song that traveled through us and out into the night.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far. I felt that this deserved a chapter of its own before the plunge back into the turbulent chapters which follow. I hope that it is enjoyable all the same, the story is coming to a close and this will be the last of the slow chapters before the end.  
**


	34. Departing for war

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

34.

It was so unlike the way that Boromir had "kissed" me, it was hard to believe that it was the same action. It had made me happier than I had been in a very long time. It brought feelings up to the surface, feelings which I had not had since Tharadain. Not since I had lived in the vast forests of Fangorn, had I felt such things.

I rolled over atop the thick furs which were laid upon the floor of Lady Eowyn's chambers. My eyes staring unseeingly at the stone wall, as the memories of Tharadain envelope me. How long has it been since I lived in Fangorn among the ancient trees, how long has it been since I last walked and danced with Tharadain under the bows of the Giant Ones? How long did Saruman keep me prisoner before giving me to Him until Saruman wanted me back? I remembered my feelings for Tharadain, remembered that we were closer to each other than we were to nearly anything else. I remembered what it felt like to love another person so deeply that you didn't want to part from them, I could remember how strong the love between us had been, and I knew that I felt the same for Aragorn.

Had Tharadain gone to the Grey Havens when I had not returned? Surely he had not waited for me, and was even now searching for me somewhere in Middle-Earth. I closed my eyes as memories of our time together played through my mind. Of the two of us running through the trees and laughing together, of sitting high among the branches and listening to the bird song, and of silent nights where we lay next to each other atop a branch high above the ground, and watched the stars dance across the sky.

* * *

I awoke the next morning to voices echoing from the Golden Hall, voices of an almost angry sounding Gandalf and a worried Theoden. I silently got up from my bed of furs and walked into the Hall, standing in the shadows so I would not interrupt them with my presence. There was a tense atmosphere in the room, something had happened and it was not something good. Gandalf had turned from looking at the hobbits—Pippin looked ashamed and confused, while Merry was listening intently, as Gandalf explained something to Theoden.

"We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the palantir a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing. He knows the heir of Elendil has come forth." Aragorn looked uncomfortable at this, shifting on his feet and looking almost unsure of himself. Gandalf continued speaking to those present. "Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still, strength enough perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-Earth uniting under one banner." Theoden turned his gaze to the ground and Gandalf spoke more forcefully. "He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of Men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

Theoden spoke with forced calm, as he posed a question at the wizard. "Tell me…why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

Aragorn looked incredulously at the king as he stated. "I will go."

"No!" Gandalf said forcefully.

Aragorn looked at him in disbelief and spoke with concern evident in his voice. "They must be warned."

"They will be." Gandalf assured him. He then stepped forward to whisper something in Aragorn's ear. Then he turned and said louder for everyone to hear.

"Understand this: Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith…and I won't be going alone." Gandalf's gaze fell on Pippin when he said this, and the hobbit looked even more uncomfortable.

Pippin and Gandalf departed for Minas Tirith a couple hours later, leaving a very distraught Merry behind. He watched his cousin depart Edoras, never taking his eyes from the figure of Gandalf riding Shadowfax, until he could no longer see them. He must feel so alone. The other hobbits were all gone now, and he was the only one that remained in a land full of people who were so much taller and different than he was. Merry seemed so dejected after he returned from the sentry tower, I knew that I had to do something.

I sat with my back against the wall of the stables, sitting silently beside the distraught hobbit, simply being there for him. We sat in silence for a long while, then he started telling me about his home in the Shire. He told me more of the escapades which he and his cousin would get involved in—how they were always getting each other into trouble, and how Merry wouldn't be there to get Pippin out of trouble this time. We spent the rest of the day together, him wanting company and me trying to cheer him up.

* * *

Sometime on the second morning after Gandalf departed Edoras; Eomer came up to me and requested a word with me. I nodded and followed him to the doorway of the Golden Hall, he appeared nervous and when he finally spoke it was with sincerity and shame.

"Lady Raven, I must apologize for what I said about you, the day we met. I had just been banished that morning, my cousin was dying, my uncle the king was a puppet of Saruman's, my sister was receiving unwanted attentions, and I could no longer do anything for them. I am aware that there is no excuse for what I said to you, yet I felt that I must explain myself as well as I can. It would mean very much to me if you could somehow find it within yourself to one day forgive me." Eomer turned and left the Hall, not giving me a chance to speak before he was out of sight.

I was about to go after him when Aragorn came running up the stairs and burst into the Golden Hall. He began shouting excitedly the instant that he entered the Hall.

"The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit!" He ran across the length of the room, coming to an abrupt halt in front of Theoden who had been pouring over maps. "Gondor calls for aid." Aragorn finished breathlessly.

All present watched king Theoden anxiously, wondering what his answer would be. There was a tense moment in which Theoden thought, before he decided on his course of action and spoke firmly.

"And Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohirrim."

The next few hours were a flurry of activity, men packing their weapons and essentials, donning their armor and loading their horses. Within a few hours, the Rohirrim were ready to depart. They rode off in different directions to gather forces from the rest of Rohan. The remainder of the Fellowship rode with Theoden, departing for the rendezvous point at Dunharrow. I rode at Aragorn's side, only looking back once at the city of Edoras, somehow knowing that I would never lay eyes upon it again. Then I faced forward, facing the east and our final destination.

We rode off to war. War against Sauron. Fighting for the free peoples of Middle-Earth, fighting to end the dark shadow that was spreading from Mordor.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far. I know that this is a rather dull chapter, I apologize most profusely for that. There will not be a chance for dull chapters after this though, as it is all over very fast from this point. I hope that this chapter isn't too dull, and I promise that the next chapter will be much better. Thank you for bearing with me.  
**


	35. Dunharrow

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

35.

The ride to Dunharrow was mostly uneventful. The most difficult part of the journey was getting the horses up the steep-narrow-crumbling path, to the ledge above where Theoden set up camp. Gimli was grumbling again, though it was more to himself this time.

Gimli had voiced his distaste of horsemen shortly before leaving Edoras, he had not been very subtle about it either. His rather loud words were heard by many, though he spoke to Legolas.

"Horse-Men. I wish I could muster a legion of Dwarves, fully armed and filthy."

"Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear war already marches on their own lands." Legolas had replied somberly. Quieting the Dwarf and further dampening the already sorrowful mood.

Many knew that they would not return and were saying their final goodbyes to their families. It was something that was hard to watch, and many turned away to give them what small privacy they could. The riders of Rohan had rode out of Edoras with their heads held high and their spears held aloft, knowing that they rode to their doom, and knowing that so long as they fought their people had a chance to live free of Sauron's evil.

* * *

Theoden hoped that many men would come, when he called out to those who were already gathered, it was with a hopeful inquiry.

"Grimbold, how many?"

"I bring 500 men from the Westfold, my lord." Was the answering reply from a man seemingly in charge of a cluster of tents on our right.

"We have 300 more from Fenmarch, Theoden King." Called another man who stood among his warriors.

"Where are the riders from Snowbourn?" Theoden questioned a passing man who must have been from that region.

"None have come, my lord." This announcement was met with silence and a worry line etching its way onto Theoden's face.

We rode on until we reached the top of a series of switchbacks and made camp there. Upon reaching the top of the switch-back and making camp, Theoden stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the army assembling below him. Aragorn walked up beside him—I followed but stayed back to not appear that I was intruding; Aragorn too looked out at the army of horsemen, no doubt wondering if it would be enough. Theoden spoke quietly, as though trying to keep the despair from his voice.

"Six thousand spears. Less than half of what I'd hoped for."

"Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor." Aragorn replied grimly.

Theoden looked at him and seemed to be trying to reassure him that it was possible with his next words.

"More will come."

It appeared that Aragorn's dark mood was not to be outspoken by the king of Rohan's hopes. "Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat. We have till dawn, then we must ride."

Theoden nodded with a grim smile upon his face, it seemed he would have said more only he was distracted by the frantic neighing of the horses. They were afraid. Afraid of something up here, something near the mountain pass, something that also made the men uneasy. I looked closer at the mountain—noticing the road which went through it, it was shrouded in a mist that made you see things that weren't there. The mountain gave off a feeling of danger, one so strong that all who were here could feel it; could feel it and want to run hard and fast in the other direction.

Figures stood just inside the mist. Threatening figures, holding spears and swords. They seemed to dart from one end of the pass to the other, all the time exuding an air of malicious intent. There was no doubt in my mind that if they could leave the mist, then we would all have been killed. I could not take my eyes from the road through the mountain; I could not look away from the figures in the mist. All noise turned to a dull murmur; I stood transfixed by this strange pathway into the mountain. I was not aware that I had moved towards it until Gimli bumped into me on his way to speak to Aragorn.

Aragorn had moved closer to the mountain than I had and he too seemed drawn towards it, something pulled at him and drew him forward. Gimli grabbed Aragorn's arm—who whirled around to face the dwarf, breaking whatever hold the mountain had over him at that moment. Gimli spoke with slightly forced annoyance which hid his discomfort of this place.

"Aragorn. Let's find some food." Then the uncomfortable dwarf walked away, leaving Aragorn to glance back at the mountain road before he turned away from it.

Aragorn saw me when he turned from the mountain; he placed a hand upon my shoulder and attempted to smile before he followed Gimli between the tents, searching for food. After a moment's hesitation, I followed after him. The four of us followed the scent of roast boar to a fire set out of sight of the mountain road; we took some of the food and then we ate our meal a little apart from the men of Rohan.

It was odd to see Legolas and Gimli sticking so close to one another; seeking the company of one of the few people here who were not Men. Aragorn seemed far away—he was staring at nothing and appeared to be deep in thought, when he stood and walked away from the rest of us, I stood to follow him. Legolas grabbed my arm and shook his head slightly when I looked back at him. He spoke quietly, concern evident in his voice.

"Let him be. He needs time to think, for he worries over the fate of his people. The fate of all Middle-Earth, if we should fail." Legolas released my arm and motioned me to follow him. "Come, let us practice once more before we depart for Gondor."

I watched Aragorn's retreating back for a moment longer, then I nodded and followed Legolas to a place which was secluded enough for us to practice without fear of hurting anyone. I was uneasy about leaving Aragorn's side, yet I knew that Legolas was right. He needed to be left alone for a while, and I needed practice before we arrived in Gondor. Hopefully I could find a replacement bow since I had lost the one which Lady Galadriel had given me, in the warg attack. I was about to ask Legolas if he knew where I could find a replacement bow, when he held something out to me. It was my bow. The very bow which I had received in Lothlorien; I took hold of it with trembling hands, staring at the beautifully carved weapon I'd thought was lost.

I looked up at Legolas to see him smiling at me. My astonishment must have shown on my face for he explained softly.

"I came across it upon our journey to Isengard. I would have given it to you sooner, yet there hasn't been a time to do so."

I was so overcome with gratitude that I knew that mere words would not be sufficient. I looked uncertainly at Legolas; his smile was all the encouragement I needed. I moved forward slowly until I stood an arm's length away, then I uttered a quiet "Thank you." before I crossed the remaining distance and wrapped my arms around the startled Elf. He did not move for a moment, so shocked was he by my action, then he hesitantly put his arms around me and hugged me back. Legolas murmured a soft.

"You're welcome." Then he let go and I stepped back, smiling happily at my bow and at him.

I set an arrow against the wooden curve of my bow, in one smooth movement I lifted my bow and drew the string back, and nearly dropped it. Agony ripped through my shoulder. I fought to remain silent, but I could not stop my arms from shaking, nor my arrow from flying completely off target when I released it. Then I did drop my bow, heard it fall to the ground, and heard Legolas hurrying over to me. I hurriedly picked up my fallen bow—trying not to move my throbbing shoulder—Legolas' voice was filled with concern and his eyes were searching my face, when he spoke.

"Raven! Are you alright, what happened?"

I tried to hide the wince when I moved my shoulder, yet I could not lie to him. I do not think that I was very successful in hiding the pain in my voice when I spoke.

"M-my shoulder. It feels as though it is being burned all over again." He looked at me with an extremely worried expression; I hurried to finish speaking before he could say that we should stop. "I need to practice. I have to be able to fight when we reach Gondor. Please, Legolas."

Legolas considered me for a long moment, before he finally nodded and gestured for me to continue. However, he was much more watchful of me as I practiced, and I did my best to not let the pain show on my face. The pain which ripped through my shoulder, down my arm and torso, each time that I drew my bow.

* * *

We practiced well into the night, continuing after many had gone to bed. I was not tired and I had to be able to defend Aragorn when we were engaged in battle. Legolas stopped me from continuing to fire arrows into the various targets, when he saw Aragorn approaching with Brego in tow. I hastily gathered my arrows into my quiver, Legolas, and I hurried after Aragorn.

Gimli had been leaning against one of the tents. When Aragorn approached, he stood up and leaned instead upon his axe. Gimli stopped Aragorn with a casual yet accusing voice.

"Just where do you think you're off to?"

Aragorn looked at the dwarf and shook his head. "Not this time. This time you must stay, Gimli."

Legolas and I moved up beside Aragorn, Legolas spoke smoothly and with determination. "Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of Dwarves?"

Aragorn looked at me and spoke with determined speech. "You should remain here, Raven. Remain with the Men of Rohan."

I gathered my courage and spoke firmly to him. "I promised to protect you, Aragorn. I promised to be at your side, and that is where I will be. I will be there until the very end."

"You might as well accept it. We're going with you, laddie." Gimli added gruffly.

Aragorn smiled in gratitude and acceptance, then we mounted our horses and rode out of the camp. Whispers followed us, wondering why we left and if there was so little hope that we would leave on the eve of battle. We did not stop as we moved through the camp of Men. Neither did we look to the left or right, only ahead towards the road through the mountain and the figures hiding in the mist.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far. I am sorry for not updating sooner, however this weekend had been fraught with gardening, company, chickens and the odd bit of baking. Hopefully that will not happen again before the conclusion of this story. Thank you all for being patient, and I bid you farewell until next time.  
**


	36. Skulls

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

36.

We rode in silence upon the Dimholt road. The only conversation we'd had was when Aragorn had told us of Lord Elrond's visit and the decision to summon an army of the dead. A new sword was strapped to Brego, and I knew which sword this was. I had seen it in Rivendell, held in the arms of a stone statue. Narsil had been reforged, the blade which was broken had been remade, and Aragorn carried it at his side. Aragorn had chosen his path, he had accepted his destiny. Aragorn was choosing to become king.

There was something oppressive about the narrow road between the mountains, something which forbade speaking. It was Gimli who finally broke the silence, his voice loud even though he whispered. His voice echoed down the narrow pass.

"What kind of army would linger in such a place?"

"One that is cursed." Legolas quietly answered him, yet even his voice echoed in the stillness. "Long ago, the Men of the Mountains swore an oath…to the last king of Gondor, to come to his aid…to fight. But when the time came…when Gondor's need was dire…they fled, vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them…never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge." All of us were more alert, for Legolas's words sent chills down our spines and made us more watchful of the rock around us. Yet, he was not finished speaking.

"Who shall call them from the grey twilight? The forgotten people. The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the north shall he come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead."

His words echoed oddly off the rocks, sounding almost as Gandalf had when he had spoken atop Caradhras. Legolas had seemed to be reciting a prophecy, and his words made Aragorn uncomfortable. It was as though Aragorn had not realized exactly what he had done and how it had been prophesied that he would do it. The words had further solidified my decision to protect Aragorn, he had to survive and become king, I could not fail in protecting him. I know that if I were to fail, then all Middle-Earth would fall into darkness. I must not fail.

We did not ride much farther through the mountains, before we came to the end of the road and a doorway in the side of the mountain. The horses would not go any farther. The four of us dismounted and approached the doorway with caution. It was surrounded by the skulls of Men, a warning carved above the door in strange symbols, the very sight of it made me shiver in fear. Gimli sounded almost scared when he whispered hoarsely.

"The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away."

I had to agree with him, it felt cold here, unnaturally so. Legolas stepped forward and read aloud the meaning of the symbols etched into the stone.

"The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead. And the Dead keep it. The way is shut."

The instant that he finished speaking, a groan sounded from the darkness beyond the doorway. Dry, cold, and stinking air wafted out of the darkness—the scent of thousands of dead things wafted out of the opening and made us stagger back—as though the mountain were exhaling. The horses could not take anymore. They wrenched free of the hands which held their reins, and they bolted. No amount of calling would bring them back; they ran back the way we had come, running away from death.

Aragorn turned back to face the doorway, his sword drawn and at his side. There was no fear in his voice when he spoke.

"I do not fear death." Then he walked forward through the doorway and was instantly swallowed up in the darkness.

I did not hesitate to follow him and I did not glance back. I was instantly overcome with a sense of despair, hate, and longing for the life after this. I could not move the despair and hatred rooting me to the spot. I had never felt such things before; this mountain was filled with these feelings. Every rock, every wisp of fog, everything exuded hatred and a deep sorrow. It was so strong that I could not think, I could barely breathe. I could feel it consuming me, drawing my very soul into the surrounding darkness, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt my knees buckle, and I saw hands rise from the fog and reach out to grab me.

A hand grabbing mine and gently tugging me forward snapped me out of the daze which the mountain had me in. Aragorn was looking at me with concern, his hand around mine as he moved me forward and away from the hands reaching out towards me. I had not noticed that Legolas and Gimli had joined us, the former doing his best to look unaffected while the latter was not bothering to hide his distaste and discomfort for this place. Aragorn pulled me to him and put his arms around me. He held me for a moment, then he half-smiled at me, took my hand and led us on through the Paths of the Dead.

* * *

Aragorn led the way deeper into the mountain, his sword in one hand and a torch in the other. I followed close behind, doing my best to shut out the feelings coming from the mountain and its people; Legolas and Gimli walked behind me, looking warily around at our surroundings. There were many alcoves which were filled with skulls, there was only one way out of this place, yet the off-shooting tunnels looked deceptively like another path. If we were to follow one of those, we would have met a swift and painful death. It was imperative that we stay on the correct path, and for this reason we moved cautiously through the mountain.

Gimli was more jumpy than the rest of us, and once more it was he who broke the silence with a question directed at Legolas.

"What is it? What do you see?"

"I see shapes of men. And of horses." Came the forcibly calm reply.

"Where?"

It was with this last question that I realized that Gimli could not see the dead around us, he could not see the way that they followed and threatened us with their ghostly weapons.

"Pale banners like shreds of cloud. Spears rise…like winter-thickets through a shroud of mist. The Dead are following. They have been summoned." Worry crossed Legolas' features and he sped up, leaving an even more worried Gimli behind.

I had to wonder if Legolas was alright, for he had made two rather creepy speeches this day and had unnerved the rest of us with each of them. Perhaps he enjoyed unnerving the usually unshakable Dwarf.

We turned a corner and were met by dense fog which sat at waist height; our feet crunched something which was upon the floor. Once we were halfway through the fog, ghostly hands rose up from it, reaching and attempting to grab hold of us. The Dead wanted us to join them, and they would drag us down under the fog to our own deaths if we did not detach the hands from ourselves. Legolas brushed the wispy hands away with his bow and spun out of their reach. Aragorn looked at them and moved forward unhindered, the hands shrinking back into the fog. I brushed them aside as Legolas did, moving faster to keep up with Aragorn, as he strode purposefully through the fog. Gimli stood near the beginning of the fog, attempting to blow away the hands as they reached for him; he waved his hand through them and hurried to catch up to us.

Aragorn glanced down as he crunched a particularly loud something under his foot, he closed his eyes briefly and said urgently.

"Do not look down."

It was then that I understood what we were walking on, the strange almost perfectly round objects which we were crushing under our feet, were skulls. More of the skulls of Men, skulls of the arm of traitors who fled to the mountain. Gimli must have looked down, for he began treading more carefully, yet even then he crushed the skulls under his feet. The Dwarf flinched with each crunch, then he resorted to tip-toeing as quickly as he could until he was upon normal rock once more.

I am not sure how long we travelled through the mountain before we made it to a large cavernous room. We could not see the ceiling, to one side there was a drop off which led into the depths of the earth, and the other appeared to have been carved into a wide staircase leading to a larger building. Aragorn looked around in confusion, unsure of which way to go. Then we heard a voice. It grated upon our minds, it was almost like a wind as it flowed and echoed through the room. It spoke with power and barely concealed malice, yet there was no source.

"Who enters my domain?"

We turned to the stairs and beheld a ghostly form of a man, a man who must have been the leader of the traitors. He wore a crown of faded gold, his raiment was in rags and showed his bones and rotted flesh underneath them. His eyes were pale and filmed over; his voice was hard and cold with no pity and no mercy. Aragorn squared his shoulders and spoke with a command in his voice.

"One who will have your allegiance."

"The Dead do not suffer the living to pass." The figure replied without any emotion whatsoever.

"You will suffer me." Aragorn said firmly.

The ghostly man laughed darkly, morphing into something far more sinister than a mere ghost. As his laugh became more evil and dark, more specters appeared all around us. Specters of Men as well as those of the cities which they had built inside the mountain; they swarmed towards us. Circling us until we were completely surrounded by figures who wished us ill, yet we could not harm them. They glowed green, their weapons at their weapons at their sides, or in their hands. I had no doubt that while our weapons could not harm them, we could easily be killed by them.

"The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead. And the Dead keep it. The way is shut. Now you must die." We turned as the cold and angry voice spoke once more, his words echoing those which Legolas had said earlier.

Legolas drew his bow and released his arrow so swiftly that I doubt anyone else could follow his movements. His arrow flew straight through the king specter's head, landing with a clatter somewhere behind him. Gimli gripped his axe in both hands, and Aragorn spoke with power and command.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath."

"None but the king of Gondor may command me." He stepped forward as his words left his mouth, his sword rising.

Aragorn raised his sword, and lunged forward to meet the blade coming towards him. The blades met with a clang of steel which rang through the entire cavern. Aragorn moved his sword so the blades were locked together and he trapped the ghostly blade beneath his own. The specter looked at him in shock and disbelief, astonishment in his voice when he spoke.

"That line was broken. "

Aragorn grabbed the ghost by his neck and placed Anduril against the ghost's throat. "It has been remade."

Aragorn shoved the specter away from him and stepped back towards us. I slowly unclenched my fists, and breathed again. I was so worried that he would be attacked and there was nothing that I could do to help him as his was the only weapon that worked on them. Aragorn saw that he now had their undivided attention, and he chose this moment to call upon them for aid and to fulfill their oath.

"Fight for us…and regain your honor. What say you?" Aragorn walked through the gathered specters, searching for any sign that they would respond. They all backed away from him and from his sword, he tried again to get a response from the ghosts. "What say you?"

"You waste your time, Aragorn. They had no honor in life, they have none now in death." Growled Gimli.

"I am Isildur's heir. Fight for me…and I will hold your oaths fulfilled. What say you?" Aragorn spoke with authority as he turned to the leader of the Dead.

The leader began cackling, and the army of the Dead began to disappear from sight. They all vanished row by row, the leader cackling evilly as we were left alone in the darkness of the cavern. Aragorn tried one last time to persuade them to fight for us.

"You have my word! Fight, and I will release you from this living death! What say you?!"

"Stand, you traitors!" shouted Gimli, yet the cavern was nearly empty and even as his last words fell, the last of the Dead vanished.

A fell wind blew from somewhere deep in the cave, it blew the fog away and we all turned in the direction the wind was blowing from. There came a deep rumbling and crashing from all around us, yet we could not find the source. Even so we knew something was coming, something was happening to the mountain. Then something began falling from the ceiling, slightly circular objects which were now very familiar.

Skulls rained down on us, clattering across the floor and falling into the dark abyss. All at once, huge slabs of stone began to fall from the walls and ceiling of the cave, releasing thousands of skulls in a river-like torrent. The Dead were bringing the mountain down on top of us. Aragorn shouted one word, "Out!" and then we ran for the traverse tunnel which we hoped would lead us out of this accursed place.

Skulls and rocks poured out of the walls, making it nearly impossible to traverse the cavern and not get pulled over the side by the flow of rock and bone. Aragorn grabbed my hand when I lost my footing, and he pulled me along behind him. I tried to hurry and not slow him down; I would _not _let him die because of me. We fought our way through the avalanche of skulls, struggling to stay as far from the edge as possible. We were up to our waists in skulls, and more kept falling. Falling over our shoulders and nearly burying us as we struggled through them to the other side. We finally made it through the growing piles of bone and to a tunnel entrance. Aragorn once more shouted at us to run and we did so without hesitation. The tunnel caved in behind us, and we ran faster to keep ahead of the crumbling rock which would crush us if we did not move fast enough.

* * *

We finally stumbled out of the cave and into sunlight; Aragorn released my hand and breathed a sigh of relief that we were all safe. His relief was short lived. For there on the river before us, was a fleet of black ships. Ships that were headed towards Gondor, ships which would aid in its destruction. They had burned villages upon the banks of the river, murdering anyone who dwelt there.

Aragorn sank to his knees in defeat. All hope had been lost. We had not convinced the army of Dead to aid us, and now the armies of Rohan and Gondor would stand alone against the armies of Mordor. They stood no chance, and they would fall. Middle-Earth would be consumed by darkness, and the free peoples would be enslaved by the Dark Lord. We had failed not only Theoden, but all of Middle-Earth as well.

I stood beside him, wanting to offer him some small comfort, but not sure what to do. There was no comfort I could give him, no words which would reassure him. Legolas moved to his side and placed a hand upon his shoulder, letting him know that he was not completely abandoned. Then there was a sound from behind us, Aragorn turned and we followed suit, to see the leader of the Dead walk out of solid rock and stop in front of him. The specter growled two words at Aragorn, yet those two words filled us once more with hope.

"We fight."

There was hope now. Hope for Middle-Earth, hope for Gondor, and hope for Frodo.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.  
**


	37. Obeying an orc

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

37.

We made our way down to the riverbank. Upon reaching it, we stood and watched the ships grow ever closer. Aragorn had told us that Gandalf had instructed him to look to the black ships, these were the very same ships and we had to stop them from reaching Gondor. We stood upon a rocky beach, simply watching as the ships approached our position, making no movement to attack. As they drew nearer we could see that they had so many siege weapons, that there was almost nowhere for them to walk upon the decks of their ships. Once the ships were in shouting distance, Aragorn called out to them with a voice which would tolerate no disobedience.

"You may go no further. You will not enter Gondor."

One of the ship's captains got to his feet and stared at us in disbelief. His entire crew laughed at Aragorn's claim. Not believing that a group of four could do anything to stop them from entering Gondor. The captain strode to the side of his ship and shouted back at us.

"Who are you to deny us passage?"

Without taking his eyes from the ship's captain, Aragorn spoke quietly to Legolas.

"Legolas, fire a warning shot past the bosun's ear."

Legolas whipped an arrow from his quiver and set it to his bow, faster than I ever could have. Even though I had noticed that I ave become faster at it since leaving Isengard. Gimli leaned towards the Elf and gave him some unneeded advice.

"Mind your aim."

Legolas pulled the arrow back and took aim; Gimli knocked the end of Legolas's bow just as he fired. The arrow flew on its new path and buried itself in the chest of a man standing just to the right of the captain. Gimli covered his mouth in feigned surprise. Legolas looked at the Dwarf incredulously; even Aragorn looked at the Dwarf in disbelief. Before anyone could say anything else, Gimli spoke loudly to the pirates aboard their ships.

"That's it. Right. We warned you. Prepare to be boarded."

Laughter came once more from the ships and with it the mocking reply of.

"Boarded? By you and whose army?"

There was no expression on Aragorn's face as he replied almost inaudibly.

"This army."

The army of the Dead burst through the stone behind us, glowing green and menacing as they stormed across the water and into the awaiting ships. I watched as the Dead attacked each of the ships, killing all who were aboard and they showed no mercy. The screams and cries of the pirates were frightening to hear, for they were screams of pure terror. I noticed Aragorn watching with something akin to pity in his eyes, pity for the Men on the ships who were slaughtered by the Dead. I tried to block the sounds from my ears, but to no avail. My hearing was too sharp now, and the only way to block the sight of the pirates dying in grisly ways, was to shut my eyes tightly and see only blackness.

I felt a hand on my shoulder; I opened my eyes to see Legolas looking at me with an understanding half smile on his face. I knew then that he did not like this any more than I did, he was just more used to it. I tried to smile back, and then the four of us waded into the river to board the now empty ships. They would help us get to Gondor, and it would be much swifter then walking.

* * *

We got some much needed rest once we had boarded the boats. It was strange to not be doing anything, for so long we had been running, and fighting that this small moment of stillness was nearly maddening. We had to stay below deck as much as possible in case there were members of the enemy waiting somewhere for the pirates to arrive. Legolas and Gimli were scouring the belly of the ship in search of arrows and any other weapons which could be of use. I was watching the river flow by through one of the small windows in the side of the ship, watching the beginnings of a ruined city over run with orcs, go by. Light footsteps sounded behind me and a voice spoke softly on my right.

"That is all that remains of the once proud city of Osgiliath. Orcs and Men have fought over the city for many generations, each taking it back from the other. It is my hope that this shall be the last time which orcs shall lay claim to it."

I turned my gaze from the ruined city to see Aragorn watching as well, an expression of sadness and hope in his eyes. I know that he will be a great king; he will lead his people out of the darkness of Sauron and into the light of the Valar. If only we make it through the upcoming battle for Gondor. He smiles a little when he turns to me. His hand rising to cup my face, his thumb brushes lightly over my cheek. Aragorn's voice was soft and nearly pleading.

"Will you not stay here where it is safe? You do not have to fight with us. Raven, please remain here where nothing can hurt you."

My heart ached when he asked me to stay behind. I could feel tears forming and threatening to fall. I could not stay behind and leave him unprotected; I had to go with him…I had to fight at his side. I had promised to be there, to be at his side when he fought, I had promised to protect him as he went down this path. I had promised to do what I could to help him become the king he was born to be. I shake my head, not daring to look at him, as my voice shakes when I answer him…as I disobey his request.

"I promised to be at your side. I promised to protect you. I am sorry, Lord Aragorn, but I cannot remain here while you are fighting the armies of Sauron. Please forgive me, for I cannot stay behind."

I could not look at him. The tears fall, falling down my face and onto his fingers. I turn my face in his hand and press my lips to his palm for the briefest of moments. Then move my head to let my cheek rest back in his hand.

I have never felt this way before…not even with Tharadain. Was it wrong for me to feel more for Aragorn, than I did for someone who I had spent an undeterminable amount of time with? I do not regret any of the time which I had spent with Tharadain, nor the feelings I had for him. The feelings which I have for Aragorn are stronger, and seem more real to me than anything else I have ever felt for anyone. Aragorn's strained voice snaps me back to what is going on, rather than what has already happened.

"It is alright, Raven. I did not think that you would agree to stay here, yet I had to ask. I had to try to persuade you to stay. I do thank you for everything you have done. For saving my life in Moria, and for showing me things which I had long since thought did not exist anymore. I only ask that you attempt to be safe. Please Raven, be as safe as possible."

Aragorn looked at me with such intensity that I could only nod in response. He smiled slightly, leaned forward, and kissed me. Aragorn held me close—his arms around my waist—and I kissed him back. I do not know how long we kissed; only that it had to be one of the best moments of my life, and it was over far too soon.

Aragorn pulled away, smiled at me and said. "It is time to enter this battle." Legolas and Gimli joined us, standing with their weapons ready as Aragorn continued. "Time to make our presence known to these orcs. Time to take as many down as we can. Time to free Middle-Earth."

He took my hand and led us up to the deck. Once there he let go, drew his sword, and crouched out of sight of the orcs waiting on shore. Waiting for the most opportune moment to leap ashore and enter the battle. We heard a voice shout at the ships, a voice shouting insults from the ruined city.

"Late as usual, pirate scum! There's knife-work here that needs doing. Come on, you sea rats! Get off your ships!"

And so we did. The four of us leapt off the ship and onto the ground, our weapons drawn. We simply stood there for a moment, watching the assembled orcs, and letting them see us. Legolas looked excited, nearly bouncing on his toes in anticipation. Aragorn began striding forward, a determination in his face and gait, as he walked he brought his sword up and began to walk faster towards the awaiting army of orcs. Gimli spoke hurriedly to Legolas as we followed Aragorn across the open ground to the enemy.

"There's plenty for the both of us. May the best Dwarf win."

Legolas drew his bow and began firing into the orc army. Aragorn charged forward, his sword raised and at the ready. I followed close behind him, already firing arrows. As we charged forward, the army of the Dead appeared around us, pouring onto shore from the ships and charging towards the orcs. Aragorn let out a yell and swung his sword at a particularly ugly orc who had two skulls sitting atop his helmet. That orc and many others went down, felled by Aragorn's sword, Gimli's axe, Legolas and my arrows, and the army of Dead who swept through the orcs like a wind. Everywhere the Dead army went, they left a path of dead orcs behind them, they spared no one and they were unstoppable. The army of Dead quickly obliterated every orc nearby, then they spread out from Osgiliath to where the main battle was taking place. They were a river of green specters, flowing over structures and the bodies of those they killed, flowing onwards to bring about more death to all who stood in their way.

I quickly lost sight of Legolas and Gimli; I focused entirely on Aragorn and the enemies surrounding him. We moved from the docks of Osgiliath out into the open field which lay between us and Minas Tirith, fighting any remaining orcs which the Dead had passed by. As I ran after Aragorn—firing arrows at the army of orcs and Men from the east—I felt something calling to me. Tugging at something inside me, a sense of pleading which came from all around me. There was a similar tugging in my mind, yet I could not stop long enough to figure out what it was, I had to keep fighting. The tugging became more persistent and I shook my head to try and rid myself of it. That action made me see something which I had not previously noticed. Scattered across the vast plain before us, were many creatures of enormous size. Creatures with four legs as long and wide as trees, heads the size of small hills, bodies the size of mountains, and long tusks as long as the ships which we had sailed here. These creatures were wreaking havoc upon the armies of Rohan. Many had been brought down and lay dead upon the ground, yet there were a few which remained and they were slaughtering people every time they took a step. They were magnificent, though very deadly, and I had to tear my eyes away from them.

I turned around in a circle, searching for Aragorn. I could not see him. I berated myself for getting distracted, for letting him out of my sight; and in that moment of further distraction, the pleading and tugging caught me off-guard.

It was as though I had fallen away from my body, leaving it above ground upon the plain of death. I sunk deep into the earth, falling through dirt and long buried bones. I kept falling until I found what had been calling to me; seeds, thousands of seeds which had been buried too deep to ever grow. Seeds that called to me for freedom, seeds that wanted to help in this battle for Gondor. Somehow I knew what I had to do.

On the surface I placed my hands upon the earth, digging my fingers as far into the dirt as they would go. Instinctively I opened my mind to the tugging, setting it free to run through my hands and deep into the earth. I poured some of myself into the earth, watching as the seeds moved closer to the surface and exploded with new life. Trees sprang up out of the ground, reaching high into the sky. Grasses grew tall and wild, tangling the orcs and dragging them back under the ground. Great brambles sprang forth, wrapping themselves tightly around any orc or Easterling that it could find, growing thorns as long as knives which punctured armor. I fed more of myself into the plants, making them grow bigger and stronger, making them take down more of the enemy.

I felt odd, as though I was floating and no longer connected to myself. I heard a voice inside my head screaming at me to stop, that I had done enough…but I could not stop. I kept pushing more into the ground, finding more seeds to give life to, more seeds to make grow. After I had made every single seed grow, I pushed myself onto my feet and searched for Aragorn. I found him fighting a few strides away, he was fighting with all the strength and skill which he possessed and he was winning against his foes. Then an orc caught my eye, he had a bow and its arrow was aimed straight for Aragorn.

Though I was unsteady and swaying on my feet, I picked up my bow and drew it as fast as I could, I fired it at the orc and felt relief when my arrow struck the orc in its chest. The orc fell backwards onto the ground to be pulled under the soil by the grass. I looked over at Aragorn to see him finishing off the other orcs he had been fighting; I took a step forward and fell to the earth. I heard shouting—whether it was from my mind or real, I know not. I felt the pounding of footsteps approaching before I no longer felt, saw, or heard anything. I fell into darkness and was powerless to resist its pull.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.  
**


	38. One final march

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

38.

I love how Fangorn seems to sparkle in the sunlight. The light falling down from between the dense leaves and branches of the trees, creating small pools of golden light upon the ground. The trees were very irritable though, and would not often let sunlight through to the ground. It was always refreshing when they were cheerful enough to let in the sun and dispel some of the perpetual gloom which dwelt here. I love the ancient trees of Fangorn; I would not want to live anywhere else. How could any other forest be as magnificent, how could any other place have as much feeling and life as Fangorn? The trees sang to me, songs of their many years living upon this earth, songs of their lost guardians, songs of life and hope, and songs of intense anger. The trees had a strong hatred of orcs who brought death and destruction to them; it was a hatred that I share.

Tharadain has told me that I must be vigilant and not allow orcs into our forest. I always assured him that I would not let any orcs enter Fangorn. It was funny and slightly annoying that even after all these years, he still insisted on treating me as though I could not handle the simplest of things. He seems to think that I will become distracted by a passing bird, or perhaps become so consumed with speaking to the trees, that I will not pay attention as I should. He thinks that I do not notice him following me in the shadows, yet there is very little that I do not see. I am older than some of the saplings, yet he still behaves as though I were a tree who does not yet know where it belongs.

Though Tharadain is often exasperating, he is my friend, he helped me learn how to express myself. He showed me what it is to live as both an Elf and as a tree. He has shown me so much, been there through everything, and I am falling for him. He would show me hidden paths which led to places that no one had ever seen before. It was Tharadain who had first shown me the Ents and told me how the elves had taught them to walk and to speak. He told me what I was—how I had been sung from one of the ancient trees by an Elf—he helped me hone my skills which the trees could not help me with. It was Tharadain who had helped me discover that I could make plants grow. Tharadain who had shared all the glorious sunlight as well as the gloom of Fangorn with me, Tharadain who had first taught me how to love someone.

* * *

I sat high up in a tree, looking down at the forest floor, and waiting for Tharadain to find me. I hope he hurries, for I found a place I want to show him. Unless he found it first. Why does he always know where everything is in Fangorn? It makes it hard to discover anything he has not seen before. I got to my feet, standing upon the tree limb which I had been sitting on and searching for any sign of him. I had lost track of just how long I have been up here and it is starting to worry me.

A voice calls to me from somewhere. The voice is faint as though it is far away, yet I recognize it though I cannot place it. It calls my name over and over, asking me to find it and go with it. I find myself unable to resist its call. I leap down from the tree, landing lightly on my feet, and run in the direction the strangely familiar voice is coming from. I walk through the forest, growing confused as the trees around me change from the ancient ones of Fangorn, to young trees that let in light. There, a few trees away from me, stands a man. A man with a star upon his head, a man who exudes power, a man I know from somewhere. He holds his hand out towards me, his voice pleading when he speaks.

"Raven, come back with me. It is not yet your time. You still have much to do. Raven, take my hand so I may lead you back. Back to the waking world."

I can only stare at the man, trying to remember where I knew him from. His words are confusing to me, why would I want to leave this place? Why would I want to go back to wherever it is that he is from? Why would I want to leave this most beautiful forest, this forest where I felt so at home? I shake my head and back away into the shadows and gloom of the ancient forest.

The man's face becomes distressed and he attempts to step forward, yet he is stopped by some invisible barrier. His voice is strained when he speaks again.

"Please, Raven. Please come back with me. Raven…please."

I look back at him, and feel something shifting inside me. I struggle to see past the brightness of the star, and when I do I recognize him. I remember who he is, and I remember being swallowed up by darkness. How could i ever have forgotten him? I run out from under the cover of trees, out of the gloom and beauty of the forest. I run and grasp his hand, he smiles down at me and I return the smile with one of my own. Aragorn is here, Aragorn came for me. Aragorn is alive!

He keeps a hold of my hand and leads me out of the forest, across a vast plain and into a city I recognize as Minas Tirith.

* * *

My eyes slowly open and I stare unseeing at the stone ceiling far above me. I blink to clear the confusion at my surroundings. I feel a hand clasped around mine and I slowly move so I can see whose hand is around mine. I find Legolas sitting at my side, his hand holding onto mine and a relieved smile upon his face. I attempted to smile back, but I do not think that I managed it. Legolas smiled a bit wider and gently squeezed my hand, then he stood and hurried out of sight. It was difficult to keep my eyes open, and it was a battle that I soon lost.

When I next opened my eyes, it was Aragorn who was at my side. His previous expression of worry changed to one of relief and happiness when he saw I was awake. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it softly, then he lay my hand back down and stroked the back of it with his thumb. Aragorn's blue-grey eyes found mine and gazed into them, he almost seemed to be trying to memorize every detail of my eyes and face. His voice shook slightly when he spoke.

"I thought I had lost you. You collapsed after the plants shot out of the ground and wreaked havoc upon the armies of Sauron. We could not wake you, and you did not move." Aragorn's hand stroked my cheek, and he continued. "You have no idea how worried we all were about you. What you did helped turn the tide of the battle; you spared many lives of Men by doing what you did. Promise me that you will not do that again…at least not on so large a scale. Please, Raven. Promise me."

I do not think that I could do something like that again. I can help plants grow, but I do not think that I can do what I did upon the field of battle, ever again. I looked at Aragorn solemnly, and nodded. I would never do that much all at one time, it was far too dangerous. I opened my mouth to promise him, when Gandalf walked into the room and stopped beside my bed. I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked up at the wizard's worried expression.

"Aragorn, the army will be ready to leave at first light. Those who are to remain behind await your orders."

Aragorn withdrew his hand from mine, stood and said. "I shall go and give them their instructions then. Thank you Gandalf. Raven, I know it is pointless to ask you to remain behind. However, if you are not able to march with us at first light, then you must remain behind. Even if I have to station guards around your room. I shall return later this evening. Rest well, Raven."

Then Aragorn turned and left the room, leaving me alone with Gandalf. The wizard watched me with a faraway look in his eyes, a look of sorrow and of pity. I once more felt as though he saw something which no one else could, and I had to wonder what it was that made him so sad. He reached into his robes and pulled out a familiar circular object. Gandalf stepped forward and placed the circlet—which I had worn in Rohan, upon my head. His voice was solemn when he spoke to me.

"You should wear that, Raven. It was made for you to wear always. Always remember that you are important, and you are worthy of such an object. It completes you. Rest well, Raven, for you will need all you can get." Then he too departed. Leaving me entirely alone with my thoughts, and a strong determination to be rested enough to ride out with the army at first light.

* * *

The next morning found the assembled armies of Gondor and Rohan, marching out of Minas Tirith and towards Mordor. I had grudgingly been deemed sufficiently rested to join them, and I rode at Aragorn's side. We marched to the Black Gates, in one final attempt to give Frodo enough time to destroy the Ring. In one final march for the freedom of Middle-Earth and all who lived here.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this so far.  
**


	39. Peace at last

**Disclaimer: I do not now, have not and unfortunately will not ever own Lord of the Rings. (I am a bit obsessed though, with the story not individual people)**

39.

The ride to Mordor was not a cheerful one. We all knew that all we were was a distraction for one hobbit to do what was needed. A distraction to draw the Eye of Sauron, and we knew that there was a very good chance that none of us would return. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, and I rode at the front of the column; leading the armies of Rohan and Gondor into battle. There was little talk from anyone as we marched, to what we felt must be our impending doom. From what little talk that there was, I learned that King Theoden had fallen in battle—making Eomer the new king of Rohan, and that Merry had helped Eowyn in defeating the Witch King. Though I mourned the passing of Theoden, I had to congratulate Merry on his marvelous deed, and finally tell Eomer that I did indeed forgive him.

* * *

It was hard not to think of this as anything other than the end; hard to think that we might go one after this and live in peace. We did not even have the sun to shine upon us as we journeyed to our almost certain destruction.

It was the following morning before we reached the Black Gate. The gate which led into the black lands of Mordor. We came to a halt nearly half a league from the gate. It was an intimidating sight, reaching higher than the troll from Moria and wider than the city of Edoras. Beyond the Black Gate, I could see a tower with an eye of flames, sitting atop it. Beyond the tower stood a volcano, the one known as Mt. Doom. The volcano where Frodo had to destroy the Ring. The sight of it made my blood grow cold, and I hoped that Frodo would be able to fulfill his mission, for if he did not, then all that we were about to do would be in vain.

For a moment, we simply stayed there staring at the immenseness of the Black Gate, then Aragorn spurred Brego forward. He and the rest of the Fellowship and Eomer; approached the gate. Coming to a halt only a few paces from the gate itself. Aragorn was the one who spoke for us, his voice ringing with authority as he shouted at whoever could hear him.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!"

Nothing happened, no one came forth and the gate remained closed. All of us looked nervously at the gate and the surrounding mountains, knowing that somewhere behind that gate was an enormous army of orcs waiting to slaughter us all. There came a great grinding and creaking from all around us…the gate was opening. The Black Gate opened only wide enough to let a single rider through. A rider who sat upon a horse more dead than alive, a rider who wore a helm which covered his entire face save his grotesque mouth. His mouth was cut wider than it would have normally been and had slits cut into his cheeks and chin. His teeth were sharpened to points and covered in what looked like blood. The rider came forward slowly, stopping when he was barely out of the gate; his voice was grating and hoarse when he spoke.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome." The rider then grinned widely at us, displaying even more of his mutilated mouth and bloodied teeth.

Aragorn looked at him with disgust mingled with what might have been the smallest amount of pity. Legolas however, looked murderous. Something about this rider angered the Elf more than nearly anything else we had encountered and I could tell that he wanted to kill the spokesperson for Sauron. He wanted to kill him, very, very badly.

The grin vanished from the figure's face, to be replaced by a sneer. He spoke condescendingly to us, his voice rife with contempt. "Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?"

Gandalf replied in a tone that allowed no argument to the servant of Sauron. "We do not come to treat with Sauron…faithless and accursed. Tell your master this: the armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

The figure growled as Gandalf spoke, then he replied mockingly. "Old Greybeard." Then he gasped and said as though he had just remembered something. " I have a token I was bidden to show thee." Then from within his dark cloak, he withdrew a very familiar shirt of Mithril and held it aloft for all to see.

There were gasps of horror and an immense wave of sorrow washed over us. Pippin breathed one word, a word which could hardly be heard at all. "Frodo."

The mouth of Sauron tossed the shirt to Gandalf with a triumphant laugh. Gandalf caught it and stared at it…unable to believe his eyes. Pippin repeated the name of his friend and kinsmen a little louder. "Frodo." The mouth laughed in glee at the hobbit's distress, and Gandalf ordered Pippin to be silent. Yet it was Merry who shouted in anguish.

"No!"

"Silence!" Gandalf shouted at him.

"The Halfling was dear to thee, I see." The mouth said almost gleefully. "Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host." His mouth opened even wider to display even more of his pointed and brown teeth. "Who would've thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did, Gandalf. He did."

Gandalf bent over in his saddle, looking down at the ground with sorrow and grief. Legolas no longer looked murderous, a look of utter despair had replaced it. I could not help but think that something was not right; if Frodo was dead then why only show us the shirt? Aragorn urged his horse forward, drawing the mouth's attention away from those who grieved the hobbit's passing.

"And who is this? Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a king than a broken Elvish blade."

Aragorn drew the "broken Elvish blade", and sliced off the head of the Mouth of Sauron. The head flew forward and landed between Shadowfax and the horse, of the now headless, servant of Sauron. Gandalf looked at Aragorn in disbelief and shock. Gimli chuckled slightly and said with amusement.

"I guess that concludes negotiations."

Aragorn turned Brego around and started back towards us, his mouth set in a grim line of determination. He facedus and spoke so firmly that there was no doubting him. "I do not believe it. I will not."

His belief gave the rest of us hope, and together we rode back to rejoin the rest of the army. As we rode back, the Black Gates opened wide. Revealing the army of orcs which began pouring out of Mordor, ready to take down the comparatively small army of Men. As we reached the army of Men, Aragorn shouted at them, for he saw that they were backing away from the oncoming forces of Mordor.

"Hold your ground! Hold your ground." He began to ride along the first row of Men, speaking to them and giving them courage. "Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails…when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of Men comes crashing down. But it is not this day. This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth…I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

Aragorn held his sword high in the air and the army of Men followed suit. The words of their king ringing in their ears and giving them hope where they had thought to find none. Aragorn wheeled Brego around to stand facing the oncoming army of orcs, his sword raised in defiance to the Great Eye of Sauron. He dismounted and sent Brego back the way we had come…hoping to at least spare the horse the fate that awaited us. Legolas, Gandalf, and I did the same and I hoped that they would all find somewhere green and filled with lush grasses for them to eat. I hoped that they at least, would find peace.

Together we stood, in an ever tightening circle, as the army of orcs surrounded us on all sides. I drew my bow and waited with an odd sense of calm, waited for the signal to begin the attack. Once more, it was Gimli who broke the tense silence with a gruff comment to Legolas.

"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an Elf."

Legolas looked down at his friend and spoke softly. "What about side by side with a friend?"

Gimli looked up at the Elf and replied in the same tone. "Aye. I could do that."

I smiled at them both and spoke as sincerely as I could. "I am glad to have known you both and to have been able to count you as my friends."

The two of them returned my smile with strained ones of their own and then we once more faced forward, waiting and watching for the command to charge.

Suddenly Aragorn walked forward as though in a trance, his sword lowered and touching the dirt. I somehow knew that Sauron was speaking to him, trying to persuade him to turn away from this path of death, trying to tell him that there was no way that he would ever be worthy to be called king. The rest of the Fellowship watched in worry as he slowly turned back towards us—his eyes haunted by whatever Sauron had shown him—worried that perhaps he would now stand against us. Yet I knew that it would take far more than a few words from an eye, to make Aragorn turn from his path, he already knew that he was worthy enough to lead his people. Even if he was unsure if he was ready or worthy to be their king. Then he half smiled and spoke only loud enough for the Fellowship to hear.

"For Frodo." Then Aragorn swung his sword up and charged the orcs alone.

I ran after him, letting arrows fly from my bow as I ran. I would not lose sight of him this time. Merry and Pippin were right behind me, charging forward before any of the others could fully comprehend what was happening. Then they too charged at the orcs, clashing with a ring of metal upon metal. Death already claiming the first on either side to fall.

I lost track of how many arrows a fired at the enemy, of how many Men and orcs fell around me. I could only focus on Aragorn, and taking down orcs near him so they would not overwhelm him by sheer numbers. I was immensely grateful to Legolas and all his hours of teaching me the use of the bow. For it paid off many times as I prevented the deaths of many Men who had not even noticed that their lives were threatened from behind.

A loud shrieking filled the air and out of the dense smoke flew the figures clothed in black. The figures from Weathertop. The figures I had been told were called the Nazgul. They rode creatures that resembled the dragons of old, yet they were infinitely more loathsome than the dragons had been. The Nazgul swooped down over the battle their steed's claws extended to pick up Men and carry them away. They were stopped by giant eagles who flew down from the clouds and attacked them, preventing the Nazgul from doing any damage. There was a loud noise—almost like a scream—and the Nazgul all turned around and flew back into Mordor, flying towards Mt. Doom and towards Frodo.

I looked back to where I had last seen Aragorn, to find him lying face down upon the ground. My heart stopped, I could feel the blood drain from my face. I struggled to get through the mass of fighting bodies, struggling to get to Aragorn, and hoping my error had not cost him his life. I felt my heart start beating once more when I saw his head come up from the ground, saw him roll over to face his foe. I saw Legolas push people aside and fight to get over to him, desperation in his face and voice, and I tried to find what was making him so frantic to reach Aragorn. The foe that Aragorn faced was a troll, a troll in heavy armor.

Aragorn got to his feet and lifted his sword to deliver a blow to the troll, only to be kicked to the ground and to have the troll's foot placed upon his chest. The troll would crush him if it was not stopped. I wasted no more time in firing an arrow at the creature's eye. My aim was finally perfect after months of training, and my arrow found its mark. The troll stumbled backwards, howling in agony; Aragorn got to his feet and finished off the troll with a swift slice to its throat.

Screeching filled the air, a loud noise which drew the attention of both Man and orc. The great Eye of Sauron was rolling madly atop its tower, the pupil was dilated and it seemed to be screaming. All of us stared at it, not quite daring to hope that this meant the Ring had been destroyed. Then the tower began to crumble and fall, the Great Eye tearing itself apart as it fell until it exploded right before it hit the ground. Joy washed over every Man, Elf, Dwarf, and Hobbit present. Sauron was gone, he had been vanquished and peace could be restored.

The explosion of the Eye created a shockwave which swept outwards, causing the ground beneath the orcs to fall away. Everyone watched the destruction of Mordor, the free peoples with joy and hope. The orcs, with fear and disbelief. Even though everyone was watching, something told me to turn around, and I did not ignore it.

I turned and saw Him. Somehow He had made it here, had been fighting against us, and now He stood between me and Aragorn. He had His sword raised and He was about to strike Aragorn with a blow which would be nothing short of lethal. I had no more arrows, so I did the only thing that I could think of.

I snatch a knife from one of the fallen bodies and I hurl it into the shoulder of the man who had helped keep me prisoner for many years. The knife did not kill Him, yet it did make Him drop the sword harmlessly to the ground, as His arm became useless.

I look back at Aragorn, and pain explodes in my side. I fall to my knees, not understanding what is going on. Strong arms catch me before I fall the rest of the way to the ground, I look up to see Aragorn there, holding me close to his chest. I move my hand to my side, feeling the large wound that has cut me nearly in half. I see Legolas, Gimli, and the hobbits above me as well; I try to sit up, but I am unable to find the strength to do so. I try to smile as Aragorn brushes a stray curl from my face, yet I do not think that I am successful. Aragorn's voice cracks as he speaks.

"I do not understand why the Valar are calling you to them so soon after allowing me to save you. I would have shown you so many wondrous things which are in this world; I would have shown you everything. You have shown me the world anew, and I wished to do the same for you." his hand brushes my cheek and I realize that I am crying. "Thank you for the many times you have saved my life, Raven. I am sorry I cannot do the same for you."

I shake my head, I want to tell him that I had promised, but I cannot find the words. Darkness grows around me, and I feel cold. Aragorn leans down and presses his lips to mine; I reach up to touch his face with a hand that shakes uncontrollably. He looks down at me with tears in his eyes, and holds me close. I let my eyes close and with Aragorn's last kiss upon my lips, I am consumed by darkness.

* * *

**Aragorn:**

Gandalf flew ahead to Minas Tirith with Sam and Frodo, leaving us to gather what dead we could and follow on foot. I carried Raven in my arms; I would not put her down even to rest for a moment. She had saved my life many times since we set out from Rivendell…she had kept her promise. I only felt somewhat better that the man who I had taken her from, had been killed in the battle. Legolas and Gimli had taken care of that while I had helped gather the majority of the dead. They walked beside me now, grief heavy upon their shoulders. The hobbits too cannot seem to find anything to smile about.

I cannot understand why she was taken from me so soon after I called her back from the fields of death. I should have made her stay behind; she should not have come to Mordor. The silver circlet she wore into battle, remains upon her head, it suits her. I only wish she could have worn it more, worn it to feasts and celebrations. Now she will only wear it to one final place.

We pass under the newly grown trees outside of Minas Tirith, and yet another wave of grief assaults me. Raven made them grow, helped them attack orcs, and helped us win the battle. The trees too appear to be mourning, for they make no sound as we pass under them. One tree bends down towards me and takes her body out of my arms. I cannot protest, for she was most at home in the forests. Perhaps it is better if she is returned to one for her final resting place, rather than a stone tomb.

The rest of the Fellowship and I watch as the trees reclaim one of their own. We watch as they hand her body to one tree after another, until she is out of our sight. We stand there a while longer, before we turn and continue on our way back to Minas Tirith. Peace has once more come to Middle-Earth, the Dark Lord Sauron is defeated, and there is hope again. Yet it has come at the cost of many lives, and many of us will never be the same.

**Please review and I hope that you have enjoyed reading this story. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it and I greatly appreciate all the comments I have received from many of you. Thank you once more and you are all amazing.  
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	40. Author note thingy

I hope that I have not angered too many people by the ending to this story. I wanted to let you all know that the sequel is in the works and I hope to post the first chapter sometime within the next week. Also, I hope to go through "The girl who followed the king", and correct things and quite possibly fix the ending a bit. Thank you all for reading.

-Cuchulain-Setanta


	41. Sequel information

Alright so the first chapter of the sequel is up, it is entitled: The girl who returned a warrior.

Also here is the title of the prequel which deals with bits of her life before she was captured by Saruman: The girl who was sung from a tree

I hope that you enjoy them, and will continue reading. Thank you ever so much.

-Cuchulain-Setanta


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